


Forget Me Not

by emmaothorell



Series: Forget Me Not [1]
Category: Supernatural, destiel - Fandom
Genre: Absent Parents, Abuse, Abusive Parents, Acid, Aftermath of Torture, Alcohol, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alcoholic John, Alternate Universe - Domestic, Amnesia, Amnesiac Castiel, Anal Sex, Angst, Angst and Fluff and Smut, BAMF Meg, Bad Parenting, Big Brother Dean, Big Brother Gabriel, Big Brother Michael, Bigotry & Prejudice, Bottom Castiel, Bottom Dean, Castiel & Meg Masters Friendship, Character Death, Character Development, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Party, Christmas Smut, Crowley Being an Asshole, Dead John Winchester, Dean in Denial, Denial, Denial of Feelings, Depressed Dean, Depressed John, Depression, Destiel - Freeform, Domestic, Domestic Castiel/Dean Winchester, Domestic Fluff, Drug Abuse, Drug Dealing, Drug Use, Drugs, Drunk John Winchester, Emotional Hurt, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Established Castiel/Dean Winchester, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Falling In Love, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Girl Saves Boy, Homophobia, Homophobic John Winchester, Homophobic Language, Homosexuality, Human Castiel, Human Crowley, Human Gabriel, Human Meg, Human Michael, Hurt, Hurt Castiel, Hurt Dean, Hurt Dean Winchester, Implied Castiel/Meg Masters, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, John Winchester Being an Asshole, Kidnapping, LSD, Loss of Parent(s), M/M, Major Character(s), Male Homosexuality, Male Slash, Mechanic Dean, Meg Masters (Rachel Miner), Meg Masters Ships Castiel/Dean Winchester, Meg Ships It, Minor Canonical Character(s), Minor Castiel/Meg Masters, Minor Character(s), My First Destiel Fanfic, My First Smut, Novak Family, Oral Sex, Original Character(s), Original town, Originally Posted Elsewhere, POV Alternating, POV Castiel, POV Dean Winchester, Parent Death, Parent John Winchester, Parent-Child Relationship, Party, Past Abuse, Past Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Past Violence, Physical Abuse, Protective Dean Winchester, Psychotropic Drugs, Recreational Drug Use, Rough Sex, Self-Denial, Sex, Sexual Content, Shameless Smut, Slash, Smut, Threats of Violence, Top Castiel, Top Dean, Torture, Trippy, True Love, Violence, bad drug trip, bad trip
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-02
Updated: 2015-05-17
Packaged: 2018-03-10 04:14:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 78,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3276341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emmaothorell/pseuds/emmaothorell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a time of acceptance, new ideas and modern medicine, recluse Cas Novak finds himself pulled back to his conservative childhood town of Sunnyville in the heart of Kansas, by his family. People and events are forced upon him, and when he finally meets Dean Winchester by chance, his life is flipped upside down. But the expectations of others keeps the two apart, causing the divide to grow wider between them as desperation starts to stain the love and everything spirals out of anyone's control.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Hell no

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own the characters nor do I make any profit from my fics. I just write for fun and for practice. This is my first ever fanfic so if you have time to leave a comment at the end of the chapters, that would be so so sooo appreciated!
> 
> Spotify playlist for this fic: Forget Me Not (Megstiel / Destiel AU FF)

 

* * *

 

_It happens like this. One day you meet someone and for some inexplicable reason, you feel more connected to this stranger than to anyone else - closer to them than your closest family. Perhaps this person carries with them an angel - one sent to you for some higher purpose; to teach you an important lesson or to keep you safe during a perilous time. What you must do is trust in them - even if they come hand in hand with pain or suffering - the reason for their presence will become clear in due time._

_Though here is a word of warning - you may grow to love this person but remember they are not yours to keep. Their purpose isn't to save you but to show you how to save yourself. And once this is fulfilled; the halo lifts and the angel leaves their body as the person exits your life. They will be a stranger to you once more._

\- Lang Leav

 

* * *

 

 

**Sunnyville, Kansas. September 20th, 2008.**

He pushed the big brass door open and stepped out on the pavement, taking in a deep breath. A slight breeze passed him. Vehicles and pedestrians went by him everywhere and the town didn't look quite as terrible a place as he remembered it from growing up. Why his parents had dragged him back down here now to look at apartments three months early, he'd never understand. Naomi wouldn't let him pick his own place anyhow. Nice way to throw out your youngest son. She had said something about checking out the new church and making a family weekend out of it, just the three of them. Why he had agreed to it, he'd never understand either. It wasn't as if they enjoyed spending time together.

It was nice to get some alone-time away from them. He had sneaked out from the latest penthouse display and stolen himself a few minutes. If they could just stay oblivious to his absence for a moment longer he might actually be able to pretend that his life wasn't real. That it had just been a bad dream. Or that he had seen it in a film, that it was someone else's life.

As his stare swept around the sparsely populated pedestrian street, he suddenly found himself locking eyes with a shining green gaze. The two orbs belonged to a youngish man with sand-colored hair, leaning back on his chair at a charming little patio café. He didn't seem to get along very well with that calm, quaint setting. Maybe it was the large, brown leather jacket, the clumsy-looking boots or the fact that he was staring right at Cas instead of giving his full attention to the dark-haired beauty on the chair in front of him. There was just something Cas couldn't put his finger on.

"There you are, Castiel." Naomi's voice cut through him and made him turn around to face her. "I don't approve of you running off like that."

"I was just-"

"Come on. Your father is waiting for us to pick him up at the church. He said the meeting went really well!"

Before he followed her, he threw one last casual glance towards the café. The chairs were empty. An abandoned cigarette traced a dying ladder of smoke from an ashtray on the table.

 

* * *

 

**December 19th.**

Meg threw her feet up on the small coffee table that stood innocently between her and the desk. She snorted shortly, amused. They were all crazy if they thought she would agree on this job - she could consider doing a lot of weird things, but befriending a spoiled little rich nobody like Cas Novak, for a ridiculously small amount of money, was not one of those things. Besides, she had heard some of the rumors about that recluse closet case queer, and she didn't really feel like she had the strenght or the heart to care as well as be associated with it.

She wiggled her right foot atop her left one, so that the metal buckles on her black boots clanged in sync.

"Let's discuss payment" she said casually with a small grin, watching the shining buckles on her boots.

Her supervisor, Cecil Shaw, had a less than moderately amused smile playing in one corner of his mouth. The irritated stare he gave her feet atop the now soaking dirty table cloth, didn't make him look any more happy with her. He drew his long fingers back through his black, slightly grey-streaked hair, and sighed.

"You know full well that I don't do any deals with you, Meg" he reminded her with a frown. "You know what happened last time. I will not be tricked again."

"Don't be so stiff and boring, stiffy."

He gave her a stern look.

"You are also well aware that you could lose your place here at the youth home in case you, for no reason other than your proud ego, deliberately decline to perform any of the jobs that are given to you" he informed her for the millionth time. "You wouldn't want to end up on the street again, now would you?"

Meg's grin hardened slightly.

"Of course not" she sneered at him. "And I won't. I just think it's a pointless fucking job, to be-" She was cut off in the middle of her mildly restrained irritation.

"It's not appropriate to speak of money, but the Novak family is really rather wealthy. Mr Novak has a highly esteemed position in the church. Both he and Mrs Novak are old friends of mine, and they have just moved back here. Their son, Castiel Novak, had a... hard time at his last school a-"

"Anything to do with where he likes to put his cock?" she murmured, amused.

"Miss Masters!" Cecil exclaimed admonishly, appalled, before he carried on with the job description. "Mr and Mrs Novak requested this. As long as there's a check book involved, I am willing to suffice their son with a friend" he said explainatory. He would not let Meg get away this time. "And also, they are religious, so keep your colorful vocabulary at a minimum."

She sneered again.

"Great. And you thought I'd do a dandy job being what's-his-name's friend?" She chuckled before she turned her attention back to the buckles on her boots.

He drew a deep breath, squeezed his eyes shut and pinched the bridge of his nose. He just couldn't believe how someone could be so incredibly ungrateful to their only real friend, and so utterly unhelpful towards themselves. He really wanted her to succeed in life - he had grown quite fond of her.

"Castiel" he corrected her. "His name is Castiel. Novak."

"Frankly, Cecil, I don't give a rat's ass" she commented casually, shrugging a shoulder shortly, brushing his words off of her.

He looked up at Meg and her dark curls again, meeting those dark brown eyes in that pale, round face.

"I think I've been more than fair, letting you turn down jobs, considering your... difficult background..." She peered her eyes into him. He sighed. "You are the only resident living here, the only juvenile that I have taken in, who hasn't accepted a job yet... This is your last chance if you don't want to be put back in the system, moving from home to home, or worse... homeless again. I'm at my wit's end here - you have to show some effort as well!"

"I know" she said simply - no matter how upset she got, she always sounded composed.

She took her feet down, and rested her elbows on her knees.

"Damn, Cecil. You can be one persuasive bore sometimes. Seriously."

He had known her for, give or take, six months now - they were even on first name basis at times -, and he had learned to see when he had won over her. This was one of those times.

"I will take that as a yes on the job then" he said, leaning back in his office chair, with a content grin.

"Not very quick on the uptake, are you, old man?" She leaned back as well, and gave him a quick smile which did not reach her dark eyes. "It seems I don't have a choice."

"Don't worry - soon it's christmas and everyone goes on holiday break" he said consolingly. She didn't need to be consoled.

"Don't be so sweet on me, old man" she said with a smirk.

"Everyone but you. You'll be celebrating christmas with the Novaks this year."

If Meg hadn't had any selfrespect, her jaw would probably have dropped. No way she was spending her free time with those people as well.

"Mrs Novak asked if you'd like to join them, and I said yes on your behalf, since you don't have any family to spend christmas with anyway."

It felt like he had stabbed a small rusty knife into her; it hurt but not nearly enough to break her. She smiled at him instead.

"How thoughtful of you" she said sarcastically. "And talking about my dead family... You really know how to treat a girl, don't you."

Cecil suddenly felt a little bad, fidgeting in his chair. He shouldn't have lost his composure like that, bringing up her family.

"And on the christmas-front" Meg continued. "Faking smiles and listening to strangers bickering about gifts and bills and the importance of getting along, are really my fortes."

He gave her a stern look for the millionth time since she had been in his office.

"Promise you'll play nice" he admonished, almost pleadingly. She ignored it.

"You know how much I like our talks, old man, but unfortunately, I've got a life; things to see, people to do." She slapped the palms of her hands on her black jeans-clad thighs before she stood up and turned towards the door, dying to get out. Cecil cleared his throat and forced her to a halt on the threshold.

"Did I say you were free to leave, miss Masters?" The expression on his face was childishly smug and content with the authority he possessed, when she turned and looked at him. She raised an eyebrow questioningly.

"You mean there's more of this fascinating conversation?" she teased sarcastically.

His grin turned upside-down.

"Some of my employees, your matron for one, and also a few of the other adolescents, have come to me with complaints about you sneaking out and coming home way past curfew." He closed one hand over the other in front of him, tapping his fingers on his knuckles.

She knew exactly what he was talking about; her nightly adventures down town. But she still gave him a pseudo surprised glance.

"I don't want to hear any more about it" he admonished her warningly, raising his eyebrows with a pointed nod.

"Fair enough, old man, I'll try to be more discrete" she affirmed. Though, she snorted when she saw his unamused face. "I'm kidding! I'm kidding" she laughed. She really wasn't kidding. "May I go now?"

He looked at her pensively, and pursed his lips before nodding once.

"Thank you" she said sarcastically, leaving his office. On her way back to her square box of a bedroom, she passed by the common room where a movie was rolling on the small, old, fat television. She slowed down and stopped behind one of the three blue couches, nudging Cindy McClellan who sat watching, and caused her to jump.

"Jesus!" she exclaimed, scowling back at Meg.

"Wrong. Just me" she replied as she walked around and sank down on the couch next to Cindy. "What crap are they force-feeding us now then? Something... ancient?" She frowned as she looked at the tv, trying to figure out if she knew what movie it was.

"Yep. This month it's ancient crap, greatest hits" Cindy affirmed, turning her attention back towards the screen. "I think this one's called 'It's a wonderful life' or som-"

Meg interrupted her by making gag-sounds, piping two fingers down her throath, and sticking her tongue out.

"Just the title is painfully wonderful" she groaned, bent her neck and leaned her head back against the top of the couch.

"It's about this angel, Clarence, who's, like, showing some guy what life would be like if he didn't exist-" Cindy babbled on.

"Sounds like it could be fun. Heartbreaking" Meg mumbled to herself.

"Tomorrow they're showing 'The bells of St. Mary's' and it's-"

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Meg exclaimed before picking up a cushion, pressing her face into it, screaming and grunting. "Why are you watching this crap, Cindy? Why the crap?"

"What the fuck else am I supposed to do on a Sunday evening, then?" she asked, twirling an end of her brown hair around her right index finger, never taking her eyes off the movie. "Sundays are already ruined in the morning, since the next day is Monday."

"Come with me? I need to... you know... return a movie that I borrowed" Meg said, poking Cindy's left upper arm with the cushion.

"Alright. Alright! Just stop that!" She grabbed the cushion, wrenched it out of Meg's hand, and threw it away. It landed on one of the other ugly couches.

"Great. Well, come on then." Meg pushed Cindy off her seat and pulled her along towards her room.

"Just don't get me involved in your shit, Meg" she said warningly. She was the only one who actually knew what Meg was up to - she didn't exactly like it, but she didn't interfere either.

"Don't worry 'bout it, McClellan, I won't let those big bad dealers get you" she joked dryly as they entered her room.

She closed the door behind them and hooked on the homemade lock that she had constructed the same week she had moved in. There after she grabbed her bag, opened the window and waved for Cindy to follow as she jumped out. Her room was on the first floor so it wasn't that far down to the soggy ground beneath.

"It wouldn't kill you to sort out your room once in a blue moon" Cindy commented with a frown when she had landed on the muddy grass. "It looks awful, honestly."

"Shut up."

They wandered through town as the street lights were coming on, taking a few extra turns around corners here and there to make sure that no one from the house was following them. Meg texted her guy, telling him to meet up at the usual place, asking him to bring her a new one.

"Well, was it any good, then?" Cindy asked casually, refering to her latest one. Meg shrugged a shoulder.

"The one before was better" she answered shortly. "You wanna do the next one with me?" She grinned at Cindy who furrowed her brow in return.

"I don't do that shit, thank you very much."

"Thought as much."

After a while they came to the right alley. He was already there in the shadow of one lonely street light which was shining down on the pavement a few feet farther on. He was leaning against the brick wall, the end of a cigarette glowing, illuminating the sharp features of his face.

"Clifford" she said, catching his attention. His expression lit up when he saw her.

"Meg" he cheered as he flicked away the cigarette and fixed his brown little mohawk, flattening it upwards with both hands. A ring glistened in his left earlobe.

She threw with her head offhandedly at Cindy.

"This is my pal, Sin-dy."

Clifford took a moment to bow his head with a smile at Cindy. In his case there was a difference between nodding and actually bowing one's head - he was a dealer, but that didn't mean he wasn't polite.

"Hi" Cindy said sheepishly, almost chirping. She stumbled over a few sounds before she managed to form a question. "Does it make you gay if you have it in one or the other?" she asked curiously, motioning at the ring in his ear.

"It makes you gay if you like to take it up the ass" he answered casually. Yeah, Clifford was polite - a politely dirty dealer.

Cindy's face flushed red.

"So how you doin', ladies?" Clifford said, resuming.

Meg reached into her bag and pulled out a bright red dvd case, which she handed over to him.

"We don't have time with you talking us to death today, Cliff. Thanks for the chick flick" she said with her usual annoyed undertone. He took the case, and examined the front as well as the back quickliy, before shoving it down in his back pocket.

"You liked it? I'm a sucker for romantic comedies" he chuckled. She snorted with a dead grin.

"Yeah. It was... something. I laughed. I cried. I threw up in my mouth a little" she said, mocking him per usual. "You got something better for me this time? You know I like to go down - those uppers don't really understand me."

"Then I think I have what you're looking for." Clifford reached into his jacket and pulled out a black case, handing it over. Meg was just about to take it when he yanked it back.

"Don't you think this is a little childish?" she said with an unamused expression.

"The cash" he insisted. "You still owe us for that last one too."

She groaned and pulled out her wallet.

"It's getting harder to get it. They're growing suspicious" she told him, explainatory, handing him a few bills.

"Not my problem, Meg." He handed her the case, and she swiftly tucked it away at the bottom of her bag.

"How's Bella, by the way?" she asked casually, not really caring for the answer.

"He's great. He's got that thing u-"

"Yeah, yeah. Sounds nice, Cliffy" she hurried him along. "Well, 'til next time!" She saluted him offhandedly, and with a grin, before she turned and pulled Cindy with her back the same way they had come.

"Where do you even get all this money?" she asked Meg, as she trotted along beside her.

"You know, inheritance, mostly. I had a dad and a brother once" she answered shortly.

"One thing, though, that I've always wondered... Why?" The question made Meg's stomach twist and turn into knots, but she refused to show it, as usual.

"Well, you know, McClellan, a chick takes power where ever she can get it." And that was more than she was even willing to say about it.

When they got back to Meg's room, Cindy said goodnight immediately and ran off to her own room, a little scared that someone might have noticed her sneaking out.

Meg kicked off her boots, took off her black jeans, and sank down under the cover of her bed. She opened the black dvd case and considered taking one of the pills, but she refrained, reminding herself that tomorrow was Monday - tomorrow was the first day at her new 'job', as Cecil had called it. How could it be a job to be someone's friend? Well, maybe it could. If you were forced to do it against your will, then it might not be that different from a normal job. Even though she hadn't had a normal job in her life. Except for that one time when she had spent half a day flipping burgers at McDonald's. When the manager had complained about two slices of pickles being too much on top instead of next to each other, she had had enough.

That last thought about her old job made her drift into an uneasy sleep, waking up unrested and in an even worse mood the following morning. It didn't exactly help that she had overslept, that the shower was out of warm water, and that they got porridge for breakfast. She threw the disgusting grey daub in the trash when the matron wasn't looking.

The world had gone from autumn to winter over night, and the wind coaxed down her collar, into her clothes. It forced her to zip her black leather jacket all the way up to her chin in a really uncool way, as she pressed her frozen hands forcefully down into the small, almost inappreciable pockets. Who would have known that Kansas could be such a freezing hellhole? She hated that she had to walk everywhere. If only Cecil trusted her enough to let her drive her own car - she actually had one, and she had it for a reason. But having caused a car crash, driving intoxicated, was apparently enough to refuse someone their right to drive entirely.

"Bullshit- Cecil- Fucking winter" she growled and murmured to herself, as she staggered down the street, her legs too cold to function properly.

She came to a halt outside a quite fancy apartment building, pulling out a tiny piece of paper with his address on it, written in Cecil's neat handwriting. Castiel Novak's address. God, she couldn't believe she was doing this! But at least she was at the right address. She cheered a little, reluctantly, when she opened the door and was met with warmth, walking up the steps of the stairwell. At least she wouldn't need to freeze to death. She stopped outside the last door on the top floor, hitting herself on the inside. What was she doing? Sure, she was just about to knock on Castiel Novak's door, but she didn't have to start seeing things on the bright side!

Just as she raised her fist to knock, the door opened from the inside. The young man who met her, looked just as shocked as she felt. He was at least a head taller than her, had dark brown hair, blue sparkling eyes under dark eyelashes, and a white shirt with merely a few of the lower buttons neatly buttoned. She would have said that he looked quite orderly and ordinary, if she hadn't noted scars and faded bruises on his chest.

He quickly pulled his shirt together with his left hand, concealing the traces of abuse.

"Who..." he began, confused.

"Castiel? Meg" she answered shortly to his unspoken question. "Cecil sent me."

He didn't look like he knew what she was talking about.

"I'm from the group home...?"

He furrowed his brows even more.

"Your parents ordered me for you, in a manner of speaking. I'm here to be your friend." She felt rediculous.

It finally looked like it dawned on him, and he rolled his eyes with a sigh.

"You look a bit like I feel" she commented without thinking. She hadn't noticed it before but he held a pair of black shiny shoes in his right hand, which he leaned out the door, wiggling them back and forth offhandedly, so that they slammed together, getting rid of the excess dust and gravel. He never let go of his shirt with his other hand.

"I look like how I feel" he groaned as he turned and walked back in, dropping his shoes by the door, buttoning his shirt on his way, disappearing into another room. He didn't close the front door, so Meg just figured she'd step right in as well.

"I look like how I feel" he groaned as he turned and walked back in, dropping his shoes by the door. "You're not some sort of live-in care assistant, are you? No offence, but you don't look like... it." He buttoned his shirt on his way, disappearing into another room.

He didn't close the front door, so Meg just figured she'd step right in as well.

"Don't be scared. Lay it on me. I've been told I look like everything from that horror movie doll, to a junkie someone just scraped up on the side of the road. Only one is true."

The hall was small, barely room enough for the coathanger that stood to the right. Although, the room which Meg entered next was big and bright, a real contrast to the nook that was the hall by the front door - the word 'airy' was probably created after someone had seen that second room. It was divided into a cozy yet spacious kitchen area immediately to the left, while the rest of the room seemed to be used as a living room.

"Damn" she mouthed to herself. "You just moved back here with your folks, and you've got your own penthouse?"

Cas came out from a door leading to a room behind the living room. He didn't care to answer her, so she kept on talking.

"Must be nice!" She looked around, throwing one leg offhandedly infront of the other. Cas' lower lip twitched and he raised his eyebrows in a way that told her it really wasn't all that nice. She didn't ask him about it. She didn't want to know - she honestly couldn't care less.

He had a backpack thrown over one shoulder, as he rushed by her towards the hall.

"You really shouldn't have bothered to come. My parents- They're a little too much" he said explanatory as he stepped into his shiny shoes, sank down on one knee, and started to tie one of his shoes' laces. "I don't need a paid fake friend."

Meg merely watched him, leaning sideways, her right shoulder pressing against the hall's white wall, facing away from where the wall ended in a sharp corner and opened up into the combined kitchen and living room.

"Trust me, I hadn't planned on doing this today, either" she said, taking a deep breath, really stating her obvious despair over the situation. "So what are we doing today?" she asked, since she felt she had to. She tried not to sound too bothered, but she failed.

"School. If I'm going to be a doctor I can't afford to slack off" he answered mechanically, seemingly out of old habit, as he tied the other shoe, before rising and throwing on a beige coat.

"Well, I'll be damned, Clarence. You're a real little angel, aren't you" she commented, sneered and snorted at Cas who merely continued to focus on getting ready. He couldn't afford to stop and give her a snotty reply - that would only make him even more late for school. Also, he had no clue as to how one gave a quick and witty comment like that, like Meg did.

"This is my first day. Please don't make it any worse" he said as he took his backpack and stepped out the door. Meg followed him, albeit reluctantly.

"I have to come with you, Clarence. I don't want to, but I have to" she said, fighting the urge to turn and leave him. On the other hand she started to get the feeling it could be fun - she had already given him a suitable new nickname which she repeated just to piss him off, or to at least get some sort of reaction out of him.

Cas merely carried on down the steps.

They passed by the door that led out to the cold Monday morning, continuing downstairs to a garage.

"Please, Clarence, don't tell me you bike to school. That'd just be too much" she chuckled, not knowing whether to laugh or moan in agony.

Surprisingly enough, Cas pulled out a car key from his coat, and clicked it. A shining new metallic car flickered it's head lights at them. She should have known the poor little rich kid had a shiny new car.

"Oh happy day" she said jokingly, even though she really was sort of happy about not having to walk him to school, out in the freezing cold.

She was quiet for a second as they slipped into the beige leather seats. She merely watched him and wondered if he was going to say something to her soon - if he was going to snap.

"Not much of a talker, huh, Clarence?"

"You know, Meg, I hoped that if I'd just stay silent... you might go away. But you just don't know how to shut up" he said casually, albeit slightly irritated, as he put the key in the ignition, started the car and drove out of the building. "And I usually don't even say 'shut up' to people."

"You don't?" Meg exclaimed with feigned excitement. "That's all I ever say to people. Oh gosh, we have so much in common already, Clarence" she kept babbling sarcastically, looking out through the window on her side.

"I am a nice person" he murmured to himself, driving through traffic, sounding as if he was trying to refrain from speeding off a bridge. "And who the heck is Clarence?"


	2. Roll with it

That first day at Sunnyville College of Medicine had for some reason been adjusted into consisting out of a hundred hours instead of the usual twenty-four. Meg got bored with calling Cas names and trying to get a response out of him, somewhere around lunch time. Cas merely ignored Meg in return, and soon they both just walked from class to class, next to each other, in silence. Meg was ready to claw her eyes out when the clock turned half past three.

"Finally" she groaned when they left the huge brick building with white corners, which Meg thought was a little too fancy to be a school. The timeworn building opposite, which served as the town's community college for normal middle class folks, looked much more like one. She stopped to observe the edifice for a second, comparing the architecture with her own old school, wondering what life would have been like if...

She drew a deep breath, the air was just as cold as she had remembered it from earlier that day. The sky had started to darken again. December, she thought, was such an unnecessary month.

"Who'd have thought that med school could be so boring? I mean, no body parts or intestines for the whole day - not even a drop of blood. Why are you even doing this, Clarence, it's so... so... boring." She complained as much as she could manage on their short walk to Cas' car, which was parked neatly in its own paid for parking space.

"I never asked you t-" Cas began as he pulled out his car keys and unlocked the vehicle.

"And taking an extra math class because it's 'fun'..." Meg interrupted. She raised her fists and signed with her index and middle fingers in the air, underlining how much fun she hadn't had. "That's gotta be some form of mental illness. Did you think the other courses were too easy for you, or something twisted like that?" she teased.

Cas stopped himself just as he was about to get in behind the wheel, and drew a sharp, deep breath. He turned, glaring at her with his piercing blue eyes, resting his right hand on the car's open door.

"Why are you even here?" he snapped. "You're not wanted! I never asked you to come with me and humiliate me all day! I don't care what the heck kind of deal you have going on with my parents. This-" He gestured between them. "-is not gonna work."

"Ouch, Clarence, that hurt" she sneered sarcastically. "I'm impressed. You're actually learning. I'm such a proud mama bear." Her reaction, when she finally got something out of him, wasn't very helpful. He snorted, and peered his eyes at her as hard as he could, before he jumped in his car, slammed the door shut, and drove off before she had a chance to get in the car with him. As she watched the metallic finish gleam one last time before it disappeared behind a corner, she honestly felt - to be clear; it was a very extremely amazingly tiny inkling - stunned. She had tried to make him react all day, but she hadn't really expected such an outburst from that shy little born-with-a-silver-spoon-in-his-mouth angel.

The freezing air blew in under her leather jacket, spreading inside her clothes, all over her pale skin, giving her goose bumps. It reminded her of where she was, and she scowled.

"Fucking Clarence" she murmured to herself as she crossed her arms and started walking. He could at least have given her a ride home, instead of leaving her to her fate of freezing to death. She didn't want anything to do with him either, but the only thing she feared more was being homeless again.

 

* * *

 

 

"You know your shift hasn't ended yet" Cecil commented, sounding slightly amused, as they met in the hallway. "But hey, you lasted longer than we thought you would!" He looked to be on his way to his office, but he stopped when he saw her walk in the front door. He held a cup of smoking hot coffee in one hand, and he sipped it carefully.

"I wasn't fired... exactly" she began, annoyed that she even intended on fighting for this job which she did not even want. "He just thinks he fired me, but I won't let him escape me that easily."

Cecil nodded appreciatively with a half smile.

"That's the spirit, Meg!" he encouraged her. "Besides, his parents pay us - remember that. I'll talk to them about their son's... aversion." He took a big sip of coffee and winced, grimacing, when it burned in his mouth.

"Yeah, I'm so full of spirit, I'm almost bursting. You'd puke if you were as spirited as I am" she answered sarcastically.

"I'm glad I had more faith in you than your matron - she owes me five bucks now" he chuckled to himself, walking off, looking smug.

Meg felt a little offended, a feeling she quickly brushed off of herself, instead turning it into her two best friends; pride and sarcasm. She didn't like that they were betting on how soon she'd give up. Suddenly, she was set on proving them all wrong.

She walked down the hall, towards her room, boiling with annoyance. Everything was aggrivating - even the mere sight of Cindy and some guy putting up christmas decorations, annoyingly merry and cheerful. Cindy stood on an annoying ladder, fastening annoying mistletoes in the annoying ceiling, as the guy had his hands on her, 'steadying' her with a dumb grin on his face.

"Hey, McClellan, you've got something on your leg there" Meg commented, teasingly.

They both looked up at her. Cindy's princess eyes shone and her face was flushed pink.

"Meg!" she exclaimed when she saw her, almost surprised. "This is Guy!" she chirped when she had composed herself a little, introducing the new guy with a wave of her hand. "He's French! Cecil convinced the hospital to give me the day off so I could... help Guy get settled!"

"Don't make me talk to the new... guy, Cindy." Meg wasn't really asking as much as clarifying, demanding. She threw a quick glance at New Guy before turning her attention back towards the hallway, continuing to walk down it.

"Wha-" Cindy began, but cut herself off. Meg didn't even need to turn back around to imagine Cindy's frown.

"I think I'll watch some of that movie tonight, McClellan, in case you wanna-" she called over her shoulder.

"No, thank you!" she got in response. Meg merely shrugged one shoulder shortly without stopping or even turning to face her, not the least surprised. "It's 'The bells of saint Mary's' tonight, remember?" Cindy sounded mischievous, and Meg figured it had something to do with New Guy.

"Suit yourself."

When she got back to her room she swiftly locked the door, pulled off her restricting black jeans, and jumped on the bed. She popped a pill from the black dvd case into her mouth, leaning back against her two pillows, sighing with content. When she had first arrived at the group home six months earlier, she had been thoroughly informed several times of all the things that were forbidden; no locks on your door, no drugs or alcohol, no boys in your room, no food in your room, you had to be home after eight at night unless you had special permission, and you only got one pillow. She had constructed her own lock the very same day she had moved in, she sometimes had a few occasional one-night-stands dropping by, she didn't like food but she liked her chemicals, she owned a watch but she never used it, and she had flirted her way into the heart of one of the boys at the home, whom had happily given her his pillow. She simply just had to have two pillows.

Suddenly, she thought she saw something small in the corner of her eye. It ran by her bed, down on the floor, and she leaned over the edge to look closer. There was nothing down there, obviously. She knew she had imagined the whole thing, because that was what she did when Clifford sold her the good stuff, but it always felt just as real.

She saw it again, that thing, which she had imagined. It ran by on the floor a second time. This time it passed by right in front of her face. It looked to be running in slow motion, but at the same time, with the speed of light. It confused her and made her feel bubbly all at once - she liked the creepy little hallucinations that used to happen. Just as it did now. Angels and demons lurking in all the bright and dark corners, waiting for something. The angels scared her more than the demons, and she thought about them as she wandered through the biting cold the next day, all the way over to Cas' apartment, where she slowly took the ugly stone steps in the stairwell, knocked reluctantly on his brown wooden door on the top floor, and reciprocated the irritated roll of Cas' eyes, with an indifferent yawn.

"What are you doing here?" he moaned, turning around and walking back in, clearly not happy to see her.

"I know, Clarence, I know" she said, holding her hands up as she followed him. "You thought you had gotten rid of me for good, but since you're not my boss..." She leaned against the kitchen-counter and picked up a grape from a conveniently placed fruit bowl, popping it in her mouth - the grape, that is, not the bowl. "You can't really do that." She tilted her head sideways, and gave him a pitying yet smug smile, as if it was a child she was addressing and she had just gotten away with saying something mean. "So, we just gotta roll with this. Just accept the situation. I'm the nicest rude person you'll ever have the pleasure of meeting."

He frowned with his whole face, muttering something inaudible to himself, packing two sandwiches and a bottle of sparkling water in a deep blue Gucci duffel bag.

Suddenly she saw something sweep by in the expression on his face - she saw him, briefly, differently than before. Somehow, he looked so out of place standing in the middle of his white expensive new kitchen, which his parents had bought and had workers install for him; it looked like they had cut him out from somewhere else and sewn him into that life. He looked so old and tired, for someone who was so young and pretty. She kind of knew what that could feel like, being forced into something - she could relate, even though she didn't want to.

"Okay." His bland reply snatched her out of her own head, back into reality. She switched the weight from one foot to the other, as the first one had grown numb. She realized that she had been scraping at the edge of the counter, the black top full with tiny white marks - it was probably supposed to be stylish, but Meg merely found it pointless and fake. Her family had always had the top of the line of everything, as well. But a friend of hers had had an old fat TV, and when a channel didn't work, the screen turned black and white, crackling. Like a swarming ant war. Like Cas' countertop under her elbows.

"So..." She stalled, not knowing what to say, and that wasn't something she was used to, not knowing what to say.

"So" he said, making the word sound like the dot at the end of a sentence. He zipped the duffle bag closed, throwing it over one shoulder. "Let's roll with it." He walked around the counter, passed by her, and stopped in the tiny vestibule, turning to see if she was following. "And stop calling me Clarence."

 

* * *

 

 

As they stepped out of Cas' car outside of his school, Meg started to feel slightly more acceptant and okay with her job, and when they entered the posh, tall building, she even peeked around at the other students on their way to class.

"Why do all you med students look like complete nerds? I thought all places with breathable air had an in-crowd." Meg kept her eyes everywhere except on Cas, as she spoke to him - she hadn't really paid attention to the place the previous day, thinking she was going to quit anyway. As they passed by, she frowned at a group of student who threw weird looks her way. "The fuck you staring at?"

Cas didn't even bother to look at them. He merely walked beside Meg in silence, not even offended by her vocabulary anymore.

"There is this one guy in my bio class, Ace, who's slightly more cool than the rest of us, according to himself at least" he began explainatory. Meg snorted.

"As if that's hard to be. Is he hot?" she asked blandly as she followed Cas up the first stair to the second floor. When he didn't answer, she turned her brown eyes to him, catching him frowning at her. "What?"

"Don't say stuff like that, not here." He casually glanced around to see if anyone had heard their conversation. Bad news; they seemed to be running a little late for class, although, the good news was that because of it, the hall was nearly empty, except for the two of them and one other girl who frantically rummaged through a locker further down the hallway.

"Okay, okay, don't get your panties in a twist" Meg said blandly, slightly amused that he found his secret such a disturbing one. "But, you know, this is the twenty-first century; you're not exactly a rare creature in this day and age, my little unicorn."

"Not everyone can be as... indifferent as you." He had almost said 'fearless', but he didn't want her to get cocky. Although, he thought about what she had said, yet with that uneasy crease between his brows. "And besides, you don't know the people in this place." They slowed down as they got to the last door in the corridor. "Welcome to my world. You'll be judged on what you wear, what you listen to, what you do and what you don't do. Enjoy your stay."

She didn't get a chance to answer him before he opened the door and they stepped into a bright classroom, full of students in white coats. The teacher, Mr Balthazar Smith, a young-ish man with blond waves of hair and thin glasses in front of his kind eyes, looked up at them as they entered and moved through the room towards two empty seats, sitting down. Cas shot him a shameful, apologetic, crooked smile.

"If that Ace isn't cute, then he sure is" Meg leaned in and whispered in Cas' ear, convulsively nodding her head at the teacher, attempting to look casual.

They had been in that same room with that same teacher the day before, studying both physiology and pharmacology, so she didn't have to embarrass herself by explaining her presence to him again. She actually found him rather cute, in a geeky 'I am a cool teacher so you can call me by my first name' kind of way.

"What? Balthazar?" Cas murmured, frowning.

"You really should stop worrying so much" she said, ignoring his confusion. "You'll get a permanent trench on your forehead."

Cas ignored her right back, looking at something behind her.

"That's him, by the way."

She turned and laid her eyes on a well-built guy, deviating from the rest of the dreary-looking class. He had a short, light haircut, eyes which looked like the kind that were always fixated on a prize, and a self-satisfied smirk. He leaned back, one hand in the left pocket of his pants. His white coat was scrunched between him and the back of his chair, and the short sleeve of his green t-shirt ended right above a tattoo that said 'ACE' in thick, black writing. She couldn't recall seeing him in class the day before.

"He totally looks like an in-crowd ass" she hissed back at Cas. "Or, at least, some kind of ass. Any kind, except the doctor-kind."

Suddenly, Ace noticed her, meeting her eyes, as if he had felt her talking about him. She didn't look away immediately - she wasn't a scardy cat. She merely stared right back at him with a straight face, raised an eyebrow, snorted, and then turned back around to listen to Balthazar's incredibly dull lecture about fluids.

She didn't notice him right away, sneaking up next to her, his breathing right by her ear.

"Hey, babe" he said lowly, voice steamingly sultry, completely at ease with himself and his patriarcal aura. "Are you a pulmonary embolism? Because you take my breath away."

Cheesy.

"You seem to be breathing just fine. Want me to help you with that?" she replied, unaffected, throwing in a cute little threat to scare him off. It failed. He merely chuckled, the sound murmuring deep down in his chest, and when he answered he made it clear that he had interpreted her threat in his own manly chauvinistic way.

"I know a thing or two you could do for me" he said with a wink, shining white commercial-teeth, and a gross smirk that would have made any other girl swoon. But not Meg; she merely looked at him, straight face, blinking both eyes once. "Oh, come on, don't be like t-" Ace continued, trying to make her give in. He was cut off mid sentence.

"Sorry, kid, I don't go to this school, so you can quit your nerdy, show-off med jokes." She gave him a pitying glance. "Also, I'm a human being, and I'm not sure you should be a doctor, what with that visual defect and all." It shut him up long enough for Balthazar to turn away from the blackboard, and realize that Ace wasn't in his seat.

"Mr Jackson, get back to your own seat, and leave the lady alone" he admonished sternly, reminding Meg of Cecil, albeit much younger and much cuter.

"It's okay! Turns out, she's not my type anyway!" Ace affirmed loudly to the whole class, making it sound like there was something wrong with her, before proudly strutting back to his seat.

"Maybe he's just an ass" she commented. Cas nodded.


	3. It's a terrible world

When they left class to go and have some lunch, Meg and Cas walked through the bright halls, over the polished stone floors that held five different gold and green stones in different shapes, towards the ridiculously exclusive cafe in an adjoining building - a dining area which the med students so graciously and unwillingly shared with students from the other school.

They were still barely speaking - Meg found their connection strange, and Cas was uncomfortable on every level. Sure, they had found a mutual hatered for Ace Jackson, but that wasn't nearly enough to be called a friendship.

"So... Should we get to know each other or...?" Meg asked, blandly tentative. Cas shrugged. "Stop shrugging, shrugger, it's annoying."

"Not here. We can talk later... when there's less ears around" Cas answered, reserved. "I don't even get why you'd want to."

When she stole a glance of him, he looked just as concerned and confused as always. She really wished that he'd relax and accept their situation, like she for some reason had done.

They walked in through the glass doors to the cafe, and Cas ended up in front of her in the cue to the food. All kinds of delicious and steaming hot stews and pastas were lined up next to each other under warm fluorescent lights, and Meg had a hard time choosing between them.

Cas suddenly seemed to have stuck to the floor, staring at a slightly tanned, dirty-blond guy in an old brown leather jacket, further on in the cue. He looked to have that "nice Texas boy" thing about him, like the handsome quarterback in highschool that everyone would love to go to prom with. Cas' heart raced and his face flushed hot as he quickly turned his eyes back to the food, stealing glances in the corner of his eye.

"How you doing, Trish?" the guy in the leather jacket cheered with an attractive, deep voice, shooting an irresistable smirk at the lunch lady behind the counter.

"Winchester. You know, just taking one day at a time. Sometimes two" she answered jokingly, smiling at the young man. "Are you here for some free food today too?" She raised a black eyebrow pointedly at him, placing her hands on her voluptuous hips.

"You're not gonna let a poor, malnourished young man starve to death, are you, Trish?" He placed a hand over his heart, looking cute and feigned hurt at the same time.

"Malnourished?" She laughed as she gave him a plate, and nodded at his muscular torso. "You're lucky you're such a charmer!"

He winked one eye at her, before he turned and walked towards the tables.

"Easy on the eyes, ain't he?" Meg said, nudging Cas' back, making him snap out of the haze. It took a moment before he regained control over his body, grabbing a plate, and moving towards the tables as well. People in the cue behind Meg started to growl and mutter impatiently, shooting angry looks her way as she stalled everything even more. "Alright, I think I've got it" she finally said, amused, irritating the students behind her on purpouse. "I'm not hungry." The lunch lady sighed and scowled at her from behind the counter, not even looking at her as she moved off.

Meg turned to search for Cas, finding him a mere few meters away, by a table. In front of him stood a stereotypicaly pretty girl with two blonde braids, who suddenly grabbed Cas' hand, forcing him to touch her left breast. Meg stood there staring, numb and speechless for a second, not sure how to react. Cas quickly jerked his hand back, as one would, and earned a scornful laugh from the girl and her surrounding friends.

"You're so funny, Ruby!" one other girl exclaimed, giggling with adoration.

Meg boiled with rage when she saw the embarrassment and sheer fear on Cas' face, as she stormed towards the scene, still trying to keep herself looking calm and composed.

"I heard you were a cocksucker, but this just confirms it" Ruby said, peering her eyes into Cas, smiling sneeringly at him before she turned to their laughing audience, soaking up their praise.

"What the hell are you doing?" Meg exclaimed, louder than she had intended. Both Cas and Ruby jumped. Cas had never heard Meg growl like that before. "A bit slutty, don't you think? Having to force people to touch your disgusting boobs." She had managed to calm down a little before she started to harrass the blonde who suddenly didn't know what to do or say.

Cas opened his mouth to say something, but quickly refrained.

"Come on, Cas" Meg said, ushering him towards another table. "I don't want to sit here. It smells like filth." She spit the last word at Ruby, with a smirk, like a venomous snake, before she followed Cas, sitting down somewhere else. "Plastic little spastic, isn't she?" Meg said, snorting, and Cas took a bite of his food. "Hey, Clarence, we could start making a list of people we hate."

"That could become a pretty long list."

By the time they walked out into the cold open air, leaving for the day, Meg felt strangely protective of Cas, even though she'd never admit it. She was also ready-to-claw furious with all the people who made him feel like his very existence was wrong. She had had people make her feel that way, as well, in her life, and she despised it. She would never admit that either.

Cas' steps faltered and slowed down until he stopped in his tracks entirely, half way to the car. That dirty-blond guy with the brown leather jacket, caught his attention again, relighting a fire in him. He was standing on the other side of the small park, which seperated the two schools. Under the brown leather jacket he had a black and white plaid shirt, and between his jeans-clad tighs, a black motorcycle. He drew one hand back through his short dark-blond hair, confidently, making Cas shiver. He flipped up the collar of his leather jacket, flashing a smile at a girl with long dark waves of hair, who, in Cas' opinion, was leaning way too close to him. Cas had no idea where all the sudden emotions inside of him had emerged from, and he tried to suppress them, but still he felt something twist in his stomach when he saw the two of them together. It felt like jealousy, heartache, disdain.

"You coming, angel?" Meg called, waiting by the car, leaning against the metallic frame. She was constantly creating a list of her own, consisting solely out of nicknames for Cas. "Because I'm gonna freeze to death out here, and I need to pee. Or do you have something more important that you have to do right now? Like, I don't know, go to some gay doctors math convention, perhaps?"

Cas snapped out of the spellbinding charm of the guy, walked over to Meg as he grimaced at her, unlocked the car, and stole glances across the park as he jumped in the driver's seat.

 

* * *

 

 

"So, what's your story?" Meg asked as she leaned back on the couch, sipped her coffee, and warmed her hands, wrapping her fingers around the cup.

A freezing wind full of snow had started to blow while they were on their way to Cas' apartment, swooshing forward on the treacherously slippery road.

"I don't really have a story" he began, warming his hands on his own cup. She gave him a pointed look. "Well, I guess I have a story, but it's not that interesting."

"Cas" she said sternly, making him flinch when she used his actual name and not one of her nicknames for him. "Do I look like a mind-reader to you?" she asked, a little more impatiently obnoxious than she had planned - it's hard to teach an old dog how to sit. She lowered the cup to her lap, still soaking up the heat through her hands. "Just, spill. Although, I have heard some from Cecil; rich, overprotective, religious parents... Am I right?"

"Yeah" he sighed. "That's... Well.... Yeah."

"And you're queer."

Suddenly he stood up, fidgeting, walking over to the kitchen. He rumaged through a cabinet, and came back with a tiny pale-yellow bowl with golden edges and a matching lid. He placed the ridiculous little thing on the coffee table, taking the lid off.

"Sugar?" he asked with beat-in politeness.

"No. And don't change the subject."

He sat back down, taking a deep breath.

"I don't know you" he muttered, scowling, trying to avoid the whole thing.

"Unfortunately, you're not getting rid of me either. So we might as well get this over with."

He kept his frown on, looking down at his hands around the mug in his lap. The surface of the black coffee rippled slightly because of his trembling fingers.

"I really don't want to talk about it... Talking about it forces me to remember, and remembering makes me feel things... I don't like feeling things" he said with a frail voice, down into his coffee.

She gave him a stern look.

"I've seen the scars... Cas... on your chest..." Her voice was calm, as usual, but in a different, softer way, and it surprised and scared him at the same time.

"Okay, okay! Will you stop pestering me if I give in?"

She moved her head around a little, indecisively, shrugged a shoulder, and pursed her lips.

Cas hadn't thought about it before but Meg's dark curls, ivory-pale skin, and round, almost heart-shaped face, made her look like a doll. Anyone who didn't know her might believe she was sweet, if she hadn't had that tough aura about her.

"I could try, Clarence."

"And if I tell you mine, you have to tell me yours. Deal?"

She lied and nodded in agreement - she wasn't going to say a thing about her life.

"I still don't understand why" he mumbled to himself.

She gave him a cold stare, slightly peering her dark eyes at him, and he looked away, turning his head to the right, letting his blue gaze wander out through the window.

"My parents found out about me. I don't know how... I've nev-... They didn't say how they knew." He followed two twinkling lights that beamed across the dark December afternoon sky. It was probably just an airplane, but Cas pretended that they were stars, lovers, soaring together side by side through the emptiness. "My father beat the hell out of me while my older brothers were out of the house. My mother cried in the other room... We moved here, and they bought me this place." He offhandedly gestured with one hand around himself, at his new home. "They said I was old enough to move out, but I know they just wanted to get rid of me, get rid of the source of their shame... Gabe and Mike haven't even moved out yet, so..." His expression was flat and his mouth fell into a sharp line - he felt a little sick just talking about it, but he tried to seem completely indifferent to what his family had done, hoping that he might become indifferent about it, eventually. "They paid for you just so that I wouldn't complain about them never coming to see me." He took a pull of his coffee. "They probably didn't expect that I wouldn't really want to see them anyway."

"So, what? They hoped a female... person... friend would turn you straight in the process?" She snorted. He shrugged his shoulders shortly.

"I wouldn't be surprised." He took another sip. "You then?"

She pursed her lips again, thinking of a way of telling him something, but at the same time, nothing.

"I had a family, as well, obviously. Although, circumstances led me to move cross states, to the group home." She finished with a grin, but Cas didn't look pleased.

"That can't be it" he complained, scowling, drinking his coffee in bigger gulps. "I told you - now you have to tell me."

"Too bad I don't want to then" she answered nonchalantly, drinking the last of her coffee before setting the cup down, rising from the couch. "There's not much to say anyway." She could hear Cas behind her back, moving around in his seat, sitting up straight, as she went over to the nook by the door.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"They're dead, alright" she snapped, facing him with a stone-like expression, as she pulled on her boots and threw on her black leather jacket.

Cas didn't answer. He didn't know how to respond to that. At least his parents were alive - despite how much he hated them, he still also sort of loved them, a tiny little bit, just because they were, after all, just that; his parents.

Meg slammed the door shut behind her and left Cas numb in an apartment percolated with a deafening silence. It took a moment before he was able to stand up and move from the couch, carrying the clinking cups to the kitchen, placing them bottoms up in the dishwasher. Clink clink. The hatch clicked when he pressed it shut, starting it, hearing the consistant hum and the splash of water inside. When he turned back around, leaning forward over the kitchen counter, looking out over his living room, he was stood frozen for a moment. His eyes flickered from the polished wooden floors, to the smooth and empty white walls, to the unnecessarily large TV screen in the left corner by the window, to the bland albeit expensive few pieces of furniture, which wasn't even his own. He had been living amongst all these strange 'magazine cover and three page spread' items for a few days, and the space still felt foreign; as if the flat hadn't accepted his presence - as if there was no room for him. He thought about the mile high pile of boxes in the foreign back corner of the foreign bedroom, thinking that all his modest stuff might feel unwelcome if he were to unpack it, but he still considered bringing them out from the shadows, making the place feel a little more home-like and cozy. At the moment, the apartment looked more like an article from one of his mother's styling catalogs, rather than an actual home - he had grown up in rooms that looked just like these, and he didn't like it, he didn't even feel comfortable sitting down or standing up or moving around.

He walked over to the door leading in to the bedroom, glancing in at the frightened-looking boxes atop each other, pressing in the room's left corner, next to the neatly made bed. Was there any point in unpacking? Was he even going to stay that long? He decided that if they had been there, untouched, this long, then it wouldn't hurt to leave them for at least a few days more.

And just like that, he simply stopped worrying about it. Instead he laid himself down on the couch at full length, flat on his stomach, crossing his arms uncomfortably under his torso, resting his chin on the armrest closest to the huge windows. He glanced down at his biochemistry text books, which were staring up at him from the wooden floor, but turned his eyes forward instead of picking up the books, staring straight out through the glass. The December evening was darker than he liked it to be - he couldn't even distinguish a single star on the sky. How lonely life was.


	4. Maybe it ain't all bad

He was feverishly warm under the blanket, but his face felt freezing cold, and his body was sore and almost numb - he hated waking up in any place that wasn't his bed.

A few vague shadows from outside, stroked the living room's bare, white walls, and if he turned his tired eyes towards the windows he could see the snow falling like great soft and slow balls of cotton. Since it was December it was still fairly dark out - he couldn't even begin to guess what time it was. His cellphone blinked in the dark on the coffee table. He reached for it, unlocked it, and peered at the tiny device which told him that it was ten minutes past midnight and that he had a text message.

" **Clarence. Holdiay break party tomorrow night. You need to get out more. Meg.** "

He didn't react very quickly; he tried to blink the sleep out of his eyes, let his legs fall off the edge of the couch, struggled to stand up, before staggering over to the bedroom. It wasn't until he had crawled down under the thick duvets that he sent her a reply.

" **How did you get this number? CASTIEL.** "

Even by text, she was irritating, and he tried to correct her as best he could. He had barely put the phone away when it beeped and blinked again, begging for his attention, which it got.

" **I pickpocketed you at school, baby unicorn. Party 2night.** "

He was sure she merely wrote those stupid nicknames to annoy him, and he was determined not to dignify it with a response, so he tried to ignore it.

" **Fine. Now, let me sleep. Still got 1 more day of school before holidays.** "

He placed the phone back on the nightstand, screen faced down in hopes that he wouldn't have to see the blinking light in case she sent something more. It beeped and blinked and the light pushed through, shining at him between the phone and the small tabletop, even flashing through his eyelids.

" **Keep talking dirty, Clarence. Makes me all dewy.** "

He could practicaly see her teasing smirk in his mind as he read the text, quickly, annoyed, his cheeks flushed. He slammed the phone back down, simply deciding not to answer at all.

 

* * *

 

 

Meg was in an unusually okay mood when they got out of Cas' car, on the school's icy private parkinglot - she hardly even noticed Cas' eyes flickering over the snowy park, looking for someone who wasn't there. He pulled his coat tighter around himself, drew a sharp breath, shoved his fists down into his pockets, and followed Meg, exhaling his smokey breath as they walked into the wall-like warmth inside the school's crowded halls.

"I don't usually use this word, but I'm actually glad that you transfered to this school so late" Meg said casually, her voice just as monotone and teasing as usual, but with a hint of insouciance. "Three days is more than enough for me."

"Not to ruin your mood, but school starts again in a few weeks" Cas commented, pondering to himself, as he walked up the stairs, shoulder to shoulder with Meg, navigating their way forward through hoards of med students.

"We'll see about that."

The first and only class of the day was advanced mathematics, and Meg was in absolute agony for the whole two and a half hours, while Cas worked away, completely unhelpful in curing her boredom, not even glancing up from his books once. Balthazar Smith was teaching this class as well, making Meg wonder how such a young, cute guy could be qualified for so many tedious teaching positions.

The protracted dullness started to make Meg itch and move around in her seat.

"Wonder when Baz lost his virginity" she whispered in Cas' right ear, causing him to blush reluctantly, face flushed hot and pink. He tried to ignore her but she kept on whispering to him, sharing every last one of her strange thoughts. "What if he hasn't lost it yet! I mean, he's old enough to be a teacher, but he looks young enough to, you know, still have it... We should find out!" After a while, her mind seemed to trail off. "What if a man with a gun walked in right now. What if I stood up on the desk and ripped off my pants."

"Can't you just... be quiet" he hissed, pleadingly, without angling his face away from the equation on the page in front of him. "This is stupid, you following me around everywhere."

"I'm being your friend, Clarence. Forcing one's company on the other... It's what friends do."

She managed to stay somewhat quiet for the rest of the lesson, sliding and almost half lying down in her chair. At least, Cas only had one class on Wednesdays, and when they walked towards his car, when it was over, Meg nearly yelled 'hallelujah', but only nearly.

"I need to get some stuff for tonight" she said, kicking snow in front of her with her boots. "You can pick me up later at the group home. I ain't walking in this cold."

"Do I have a choice?" he asked, knowing the answer before she had even said it.

"Nope."

 

* * *

 

 

"Who, by the way, invited you to this thing?" Cas asked, suddenly remembering that he hadn't even questioned the idea.

They quickly stepped inside, hurrying to take shelter from the blizzard, desperately soaking up the suddenly, and more than welcome, warm atmosphere, like spunges. Meg slammed the door behind them, shutting out the last of the cold winds that had chased them all the way from Cas' parents' car, driven by their personal chauffeur.

"Invitations are for wimps" she teased. He scowled, confused. "No, I'm just kidding. Connections, my dear Clarence, connections are everything" she answered simply, stomping her feet down on the floor, leaving puddles of melted snow around her.

"And why do you insist on wearing that thin jacket? It is December." Cas was honestly curious as to why someone would freeze deliberately when there existed so many wonderful thick winter coats in the world.

"Because."

"Because why?"

"You ask too much. Shut up."

She ignored his unsatisfied expression, bobbed her head to the booming remix of a christmas song, kicked off her wet boots, and offhandedly threw her black leather jacket over a chair that stood straight and in perfect alignment with the wall. Cas left his own coat with all the neatly suspended coats and jackets on the coathanger next to the chair, and then turned his eyes to Meg's jacket, sighing. He didn't bother to correct her, tell her to behave - he had a feeling that the owners of the other countless carelessly thrown jackets, wouldn't behave tonight either.

"Could you move?" she groaned behind him, stomping the floor impatiently, waiting to get past him in the narrow hall.

Just as he was about to move out of Meg's way, he saw someone, the dirty-blond guy from school, further down the hallway, amongst the crowd. Cas watched him walk past all the people, holding his beer by his chest, expecting everyone to move, which they did. His brown leather jacket brushed against a guy here and a girl there, and merely watching him sent a sort of chill straight through Cas' body. The guy kept walking without looking back at anyone, completely at ease, and then he rounded a corner, disappearing. Meg followed Cas' gaze.

"Damn Clarence, could you be more obvious?" she hissed right by his ear, teasing him. Then she lowered her voice, almost whisepering into his ear. "Do you think he ever looks himelf in the mirror and goes 'damn'...?" She pushed herself past him and further into the crowded house.

For a moment, Cas stared at the corner where the guy had vanished, and then he blinked, trying to pull himself together, his attention back to Meg as he followd her into the house, relinquishing his sudden emotions.

They made their way over to the kitchen to get some beers or perhaps even some spiked christmas punch. All the while Meg hoped that it had been a good idea to bring Cas to a somewhat proper party, helping him get out of his shell a little, being his 'friend', even though she still felt like she'd rather be out and about town with her real friends.

"Here. Drink" she ordered, shoving a beer bottle in Cas' hands. "There. Move." She ushered him towards the living room that was even more crowded than the previous rooms.

That guy from earlier, stood casually, oozing confidence, against an armchair, leaning over that pretty dark-haired girl from the park. They were talking to a guy in a similar armchair opposite of them, laughing about something, and the dirty-blond guy in the brown leather jacket threw his head back, small cute lines appearing by his eyes as he did so.

Suddenly, he noticed Cas staring at him, and when their eyes met for the first time, Cas couldn't help but shiver. His throat felt dry and he held his breath as he watched the guy swing his beer bottle back and forth between two fingers for a moment, before he raised it to his lips and took a pull off it, without breaking their intense eye contact - at least that's the word Cas undoubtedly described it with in his own mind; intense. He just couldn't look away. When the guy lowered the bottle again, he gave Cas a short nod and a polite half smile, the corner of his mouth digging into his cheek. Cas froze for a second before he remembered how to breathe again, inhaling deeply and smiling back. A small smile.

"Forget it, Clarence. Dean Winchester's off the menu. I didn't bring you here to stare at the baddest, straightest, most red-blooded, unobtainable guy in town" Meg said behind him. She wasn't watching him, she merely leaned back, relaxing on the big beige sofa, sipping her punch. She frowned, pulled out a small flask from the back of her black jeans, and poured its content into her glass. "This tastes a little too sober-ish" she said to herself and took another sip.

She saw Cas in the corner of her eye and sighed loudly at him; he had stepped back a little, but he was still watching the guy on the other side of the dimmed room.

"C'mon! You see that chick he's with? That's Lisa Braeden. They're a thing. Now, let it go, let it go, lover boy" she groaned. She had expected and accepted that she might have to guide him amongst normal, cool people to begin with, but not when it came to those kind of relationships - she was not up for that.

Meg's words made reality pile down on Cas, and he was thrust back into his own body. He scowled and looked down at his beer, hitting himself on the inside; he should have had more control over himself - people had already started to figure out what a freak he was.

"Come here." She bit the insides of her cheeks and tried not to hit him for being so annoying. Instead she patted the seat next to her, looking calm as usual, but also strangely sympathetic, or was it bored indifference? Either way, Cas did as he was told and sank down on the beige sofa as well. "I can't believe I'm saying this, but I can see how much you're bothering yourself. Of course, I wouldn't know what that's like - I'm great."

"I'm fine" he said, trying to sound just as bland. She really wasn't helping anyway.

She hit his left knee with the back of her hand.

"Shut up. Pay attention" she conformed him, ignoring his obvious lie. She grabbed and held his chin, steadily, with one hand, and looked him straight in the eyes. "There's. Nothing. Wrong. With. You."

It was not at all what Cas had thought she'd say. He thought she'd bitch slap him or something, not say something nice.

"Just because people say that you're a freak and that it's all your fault..." She looked pensive for a split second, and Cas had a tiny feeling she wasn't merely talking about him anymore. She saw his confusion, and rolled her eyes, letting go of his face. "You're just queer, angel" she affirmed casually. "As queer a-"

He shushed her violently, then calmed down, and stroked his free hand down his shirt, straightening it.

"I'M FINE."

"-as a three dollar bill" she continued persistently. "You know, you only react that strongly if it's true" she said calmly with a teasing hint of a smile. "So if you don't want people to know, you shouldn't react, like, at all. And don't try to lie to me again, or I'll smack you stupid." She shoved her punch in his free hand, and stood up. "Now, man up! And drink up. We're not supposed to be able to stand up straight. Ha-ha, straight."

She disappeared out into the kitchen, leaving him with a beer in one hand and a home-made drink in the other. He figured he might as well try to have some fun, so he took big gulps until the beer and the glass were both empty, standing up, swaying for a second before he moved out of the room. He strictly kept himself from looking in the direction of Dean Winchester; he discouraged himself from even thinking about Dean Winchester - even though thinking about not thinking about him, made him think about him.

He passed by some people he sort of knew, Chuck, Garth and Charlie, greeting them with a nod before he opened a glass door and ended up outside on a slippery porch, leading to the back garden, somehow holding a new glass of Meg's punch mix in his right hand, his left hand in one of the pockets of his trousers. He took a few gulps, feeling the warmth spred as he carefully took another step out into the dark, cold December night. The weather had calmed down; the raging storm had turned into softly falling snow, covering the scenery, making everything glisten. Even the stars were out, and Cas pretended that they shone just for him.

The door slid open behind him, warmth flowed out, and the crowd inside cheered for a moment, before the door closed again, muting the drunken laughter and singing slightly. He heard steps creaking behind him, moving closer, and the igniting sound of a lighter.

"Awesome party, huh?" a deep, gravelly male voice said behind him, casually.

Cas had to turn his head, glancing around the porch to see if the person was addressing him, or if there was someone else out there besides him. But when he turned towards the house, towards the voice, he stiffened. His first instinct was to run, slip away unnoticed some how, or acting out animosity as a defence. But those two vigorous, green eyes glistened back at him under dark lashes so effulgently, trapping him in a hurricane that only he seemed to feel, and for a second he feared that he would perish if those eyes ever were to look away again.

"It's just us here, man." Dean Winchester took a pull of his cigarette, the end glowing, casting a mellow light on his half smile. A column of smoke rose and evaporated in the dark. He stood bowlegged and masculine with one hand in one of the pockets of that brown leather jacket of his, a half smile on his pink, pouty lips, and a calm demeanor - as if his mere presence didn't make the blue-eyed boy almost melt right out of his clothes. There was something extremely nonchalant, dangerous and sexy about Dean, something Cas found really hard to ignore.

Cas had to take another gulp of his drink, the action giving him a few seconds to consider what would be an appropriate response.

"Yes. Awesome party" was all he managed to say, uncomfortably.

Dean held his cigarette still between his lips, pulling out his pack from the left pocket of his leather jacket, holding it out towards Cas.

"You want a smoke?" he asked through the side of his mouth, biting down on his cancer stick. He merely got a head shake in return. "Fine" he said blandly, shrugging a shoulder almost imperceptibly. He carefully took the cigarette between his fingers again, drawing another pull of it, as he walked by Cas, down the two steps and out in the snow, tapping the thin cylinder off on the white ground.

"I happen to like snow" slipped out of Cas before he got a chance to contemplate it.

"What?"

He hesitated for a second, wondering if he was going to say something more he would live to regret.

"You're ruining the snow."

They both looked down on the black little spot by Dean's shoe, dirty with cigarette ash, and Dean looked up at Cas for a second before he swiftly licked his fingers - a gesture which Cas found a little too sensual - and put the cigarette out by nipping the end with his wet fingers. He put the half used up cig in the pack in his pocket, before he sank down and scooped up the grey mix of snow and ash in his hands, walking over the yard, throwing the grey sludge over the fancy white wooden fence, making it the neighbors' problem.

"All good?" he asked as he walked back towards Cas, wiping his hands off downwards on his jacket.

Cas' eyes flickered between Dean's pretty green eyes, to the strange V-shaped trail of footsteps which he had left in the snow, to the five o'clock shadow remaining on the sharp angle that was Dean's jaw, to the fence, to Dean's eyes again, and he could feel his face flush hot just thinking that Dean had done that for him, and he hated how he couldn't control the colour of his cheeks. He only dared to nod in reply.

"Dean, by the way" he introduced himself, offering him his hand, and Cas had to take the two steps down and walk out into the snow as well, to reach and shake it, and Dean had an offhandedly manly way of shaking hands. His was strong and a little rough, nicely warm, a real contrast to Cas' skin who started to integrate with the cold air - he felt a little silly standing out there in the falling snow, wearing nothing but jeans, borrowed slippers, his shirt, but no coat, alone with Dean Winchester.

"Castiel" he said.

"Castiel?" Dean repeated, furrowing his brows at the unusual name, as a crooked smile emerged on his face.

"Religious parents" Cas said shortly, explanatory.

The door opened behind them, and Cas spun around quickly, terrified that someone would see them and start making assumptions, but he only caught a glimpse of someone walking away, back into the crowded house, shouting "It's so fucking hot in here! Mind if I open the door?" without caring much for an answer. Eartha Kitt's Santa Baby purred and poured out of the living room, and a few voices yelled complaints, saying that it wasn't cool enough for a party, while someone else countered that it actually was a Christmas party and that they could get drunk to anything. Dean snorted and chuckled at the scene, drawing Cas' attention back to him.

"They're such little bitches" he commented, and Cas couldn't deny it.

They were quiet for a moment, and Cas caught himself wondering why Dean hadn't left yet, at the same time he hoped that he wouldn't leave.

"So, you're in college?" he asked casually, doing his best to ensure that Dean would stick around for just a little while longer, even though he himself was starting to shudder from the cold. "Just, 'cause I saw you-" he continued, explanatory, but he immediately regretted opening his mouth again - he had already had more than his fair share of Dean Winchester, and he should be careful before he got the usual hurtful invective thrown at him. Although, this far, Dean didn't seem like a jerk, like one of those people - Cas hoped that Dean wasn't one of those people. But where was he going with this - what was his intention?

Dean chuckled again.

"Well, dammit, do I look that young?" He drew his hand down his jaw, grinning. "No, I just know a few people there. I work down at the garage. Just barely even went to high school, myself. Didn't give college much thought after that. Had to take care of my kid brother. But it was alright."

Cas had not expected to hear something like that, and his heart softened even more for the green-eyed man. Dean smiled that deep smile at Cas again, and Cas' knees felt strangely weak, like jelly, faltering involuntarily under him, and he strolled over to the house wall to lean nonchalantly against it, trying not to show that the bones in his body had started to freeze to ice.

"You took care of your brother?"

"Yeah. The kid wanted to stay in school more than me, so..." Dean shoved his hands down into the pockets of the jacket.

Cas took another gulp of his drink, realizing that the glass was empty yet again, putting it down on a square stone that stuck up in the snow.

"Who's messing with the snow now" Dean joked, tilting his head forward slightly, raising a brow, smirking.

"I'm gonna take that inside" Cas ensured, laughing a little. "You were never gonna clean up that ash."

Dean peered his eyes up at the sky, pouting his lips, for a second.

"You're right. But I did!"

"Yes, because I told you to!" Cas laughed a small, nervous laugh, and Dean chuckled with his warm, deep voice, blue eyes meeting green in the dark. Cas' stomach turned into knots as he recognized the feeling of wanting to be close, wanting Dean's eyes and his face and the small rain of freckles on the bridge of his nose and the crinkles by his eyes when he smiled, to become familiar.

Neither one of them seemed to notice when their laugh died out, the stillness of the night drowning out the crowd and the music from inside. The snow continued to fall on them, but Cas wasn't cold anymore.


	5. The beacon in the blackness

The man was like a bonfire; warm, inviting, a beacon, with something wild about him. Cas suddenly noticed something changing in his eyes, something turning serious, as they stood gazing at each other. The ferocious look in those green irises could have made planets fall out of line, fainting from their orbits, and Cas was absolutely sure that when the deity that had made Dean, did just that, they must have broken the mold, ruining every chance of ever making another one like him ever again. He wanted Dean to completely ravish him up against the yellow panel wall of the quaint two-storey family home, belonging to some geeky rich kid, currently partying inside with all the other adolecents, utterly unknowing of them. But it was a fantasy too good to be realized.

"What?" Cas breathed, trembling by Dean's mere presence, trying not to look down at Dean's plump pink lips, forgetting all about the snow and the cold air - they were so close, he could smell Dean's warm and sweet, manly scents, letting them cloud his mind, not giving a flying fuck what Meg had said about Dean being straighter than a ruler. For a second, he thought about the fact that he didn't know this guy, Dean Winchester, and he was a little scared that he was playing some trick only to out and humiliate him later. Although, at the same time he had never wanted to be close to someone so badly; like two opposite poles of a magnet, like a moth to a flame, like a dying star, imploding and dragging everything into itself, only worse.

Suddenly, Dean looked to be running out of self-restraint. He inhaled and exhaled deeply before he pulled Cas aside, stumbling behind the far wall of the house, in between two prickly, snow-covered bushes, away from preying eyes, desperately and passionately, utterly unable to keep himself away any longer. He pushed Cas with him, up against the wall, murdering the space between them, one hand rough on his hip and the other one on his neck and his jaw and his cheek, caressing hot skin with chilled, trembling fingers, and Cas was like clay in his hands. He let Dean press his whole body, all his weight, against him, creating a wonderful and thrilling friction between them. Their longing lips found each other, Dean sucking and licking, nipping on Cas' lower lip, and he let out a moan against Dean's wet mouth while their tongues danced and whirled together. Dean gave out an arousing grunt under his breath, strained, deep down in his chest, and Cas changed his mind; Dean wasn't dangerous - he was practically predatorial. A sinner, the devil personified, in the flesh, there to seduce and ruin him, maybe not on purpose, but still...

Cas was trapped and completely surrounded by Dean, but he didn't want to run, and his heart hammered wildly in his chest, and his hands felt clammy as he pulled Dean in - if possibly - even closer by hooking his fingers into the waistband of his jeans, and Cas couldn't believe what was happening and he hoped that it would never end.

After a moment, though, they had to part, drawing deep breaths, exhaling hot air out into the black December night, staring at each other, eyes wide, panting, chests heaving, mouths agape, smiling vaguely, tentative.

Cas let his head fall forward, forehead against neck, speechless, and Dean rested his right arm up on Cas' shoulder, letting the other remain on his hip, squeezing it gently. Cas noted that Dean was a few centimeters taller than him, as he slipped his hands in under the leather jacket to warm his freezing fingers at Dean's sides, panting against the nape of his warm neck. The musk filled him; leather, coriander, Dean's cologne, and a hint of whiskey on his breath, and the curve of Cas' nose fitted nicely with the curve of Dean's throat.

"Cas" Dean whispered under his breath, and he made it sound like he was sending out a prayer into the universe. It made Cas smile when he for the first time heard Dean use his nickname. He shivered and the inside of his stomach fluttered as if by strokes of butterfly wings.

For a second, Cas felt a little cheap since he had just met the guy, but at the same time it was extremely exhilerating and hot and his biggest day dream come true, and he felt strangely close to this man - they just fitted so nicely together, as if they were two parts of a whole. He soaked up everything that was Dean, greedily, taking it into himself, trying to make it a part of him, making them one, fitting all of it together in between his own genes and his own cells, hoping that Dean wouldn't mind staying there for a while.

"That wasn't very chivalrous of you" Cas whispered, smiling carefully - he felt practically glowing and completely terrified, and Dean panted in competition with him, an open, surprised expression on his handsome face. Dean chuckled deep down in his chest.

"Chivalrous" he repeated, sounding amused. "I admit, this was a bit sudden, but c'mon Cas... Did you really want me to be chivalrous?" he asked teasingly with a half grin.

Cas shook his head a little, still looking down, keeping his face by Dean's jaw, feeling brave and mischievous, before his heart sank.

"I don't usually- I don't- don't do this- these kind of... things. I-" he explained, suddenly too nervous to shut up. "I mean- This is... I mean... Just a- a one time thing... Right?" He uttered the words as a precaution, even though every syllable and every letter made his stomach turn up-side down; he wanted Dean to tell him no, to tell him that they had something more and that he felt it too. But if it really was just a one time thing in Dean's mind, then Cas wasn't going to be the one who got hurt.

Dean moved a little under Cas' touch, as if to scratch an invisible itch somewhere, and Cas didn't look up at him, waiting for his answer which seemed to take forever to get.

"Cas, I-"

"Dean! Dean?!"

Drunk laughter and shouting voices rumbled closer, slowly, party people searching the glistening icy back garden, unaware of what they might stumble upon if they happened to turn around the right corner of the house.

"Where you at, Winchester?!"

"Dean-o! Where are you hiding?!"

Cas flinched, trying to break away, trying to push himself past Dean, his first thought being to run away, nearly slipping on the icy ground in the process. But Dean reacted instantaneously, stepping closer, instinctively, almost merging together with Cas into one being, holding him firmly, his jaw by Cas' ear, chest to chest, heart to heart, squeezing in towards the wall, shadowed by the bushes and the night.

"Woah, easy, there" Dean whispered, pinning Cas against the wall, voice rough and deep, his whole body heavily and completely intruding on him. Cas willed himself to calm down, suddenly feeling a little bit rowdy; the thought of being caught with Dean Winchester was an all too real and thrilling threat. Of course no one would even think to question Dean, but the blush on Cas' cheeks, making him look gulity as hell, was something else entirely. He suddenly got a strong urge to bite the skin on Dean's neck, sucking on the curve of it, wanting to make him moan, but he didn't, knowing it would reveal them. "Quiet" Dean kept mouthing. "Be absolutely... still..."

They stood frozen, litterally, merely listening as the others walked around the garden once and then back inside, growing tired fairly quickly.

"This is all a bit too exciting for one day" Cas affirmed faintly, his warm breath exhaled like white smoke, and he finally looked up at Dean, the universally handsome, who didn't seem to hear; he kept his head raised, neck straightened, trying to peek over the bush and around the corner of the house, towards the porch and the glass door, making sure everyone had gone back inside - he recognized a few of them as a part of his own crowd; Ash, Pamela and Lisa. Dean seemed anxious, and Cas had an echo of the feeling inside himself as well.

"This is crazy" Dean said lowly, slowly letting his eyes leave the porch and glide back to meet Cas'.

"Completely foolish" Cas whispered under his breath, and Dean smiled his deep, warm smile at him, before he squeezed his green eyes shut, shook his head, letting it hang forward for a moment.

"We can't... This- We- They wouldn't-" he said, refering to the adolecents inside and their more than possible disability to understand. He changed the course of his words faster than he managed to say them, and Cas wasn't sure where he was going with it. "They can't know." Dean raised his gaze again, and looked into Cas' blue irises - he seemed to consider something, biting his lower lip. "When can I see you again?"

"You- you don't even know me" Cas commented, peering his blue eyes, suddenly a little suspicious.

"I want to" Dean persisted.

"You want to?"

"Seriously, Cas? We went to first base, and you doubt that I want to get to know you?" He sounded as well as looked amused, the corners of his soft mouth curling up in a crooked smile. "C'mon, I don't bite. Much."

"I'm not into this whole nail and bail thing" he answered, stalling his actual answer which he knew was coming.

"It won't be like that! Cas, c'mon." He raked a hand back through his dark blond hair. "I just think you seem like a guy who's worth getting to know... And there's not alot of those around." He sounded honest, but Cas knew that even the devil had once been an angel.

"Tomorrow...?" Cas answered without hardly thinking, merely spitting out the first thing that came to mind, his longing, aching wish - he wondered if he had really meant it as an answer, or if it was actually a question.

Dean nodded, his smile turning into a cocky smirk, something shining in his eyes.

"Awesome."

A few moments later, the cold air was biting Cas' nose and cheeks, drying out his lips, and he looked down as he walked homeward, folding up his fingers inside the arms of his coat, pulling his shoulders up - as if that would help him keep warm. He wondered what it was that could have possibly hit him, that made him invite Dean Winchester, of all people, to come to his apartment the day before Christmas day, of all days.

He made a little game out of stepping on the different-shaped, untouched patches of snow in between all the tire tracks and boot prints, flattening it down, hoping he was helping the spring to come along faster, imagening what it was going to be like walking down these streets in shorts and sandals.

It was funny how that worked; it was finally winter and Christmas, and the snow sparkled beautifully in the light from the headlights of by-passing cars and lamp posts and in-door lights on windowsills behind glass. Still he longed for summer and warmth and grass. At the same time he knew that when summer came he was going to complain to no one but himself about the heat and mosquitoes and sweat, just like he always did, longing for snow and candle light and cozy knitted sweaters and hot chocolate with tiny white and pink marshmallows. He always wanted what he couldn't have, in one way or another.

Cas stopped planning his steps, kicking the snow in front of him instead. A little snow ended up on his socks, soaking through, cold, dripping down his ankles and his feet.

For years he had thought that he was happy being on his own, content - he had convinced himself of it, just he and himself. But now there was a flaw in his defence mechanism; he was faulty, defective, erroneous and almost completely inoperative. He had left Dean back at the party, and after just that one short, wondrous rendezvous, he felt lonely; he had had Dean all to himself for mere minutes, but it felt like eternities, and Cas just couldn't wrap his mind around how someone could be there for a few eternities within minutes, and the next second, they could just be gone, leaving such a loud, gaping void behind them. What had Cas' life even consisted of before those minutes, before those impossible eternities of stolen moments with Dean Winchester?

It was funny how that worked.

His thoughts wandered back to earlier when he had casually brushed their hands together, gently, before Dean had left him behind the corner of the house. He had watched Dean walk in through the glass doors, alone - Cas himself had stayed put for a moment, waiting a while before going in as well, stealing glances of Dean's wide back, wondering about the muscles playing somewhere under his clothes.

"Ash! The hell you want, man?" Dean had exclaimed, turning his hands into fists, playfully hitting someone's shoulder, and all Cas had thought was ' _those hands were just on me_ '... "What you mean, where I've been?" Cas had stiffened as he had waited for Dean to come with some kind of explanation for his absence. "Don't tell Lisa, but I just met this chick, and she had these huge-" Cas had stopped listening right about there.

Eventually Cas reached his apartment building, taking the stairs, his legs falling heavily on each step. A dimmed light from outside, lay all over the flat, glowing in through the big windows on the far right wall, and Cas felt the air leave his lungs as if he had been holding his breath all day.

In the right corner of the room, by the window, stood a huge, dark green fir tree with wide, beautiful branches. On one of the branches, he could destinguish a white envelope, and Cas quickly walked over to it, opened it, and exhaled sharply when he read the short sentence inside, neatly written in a thin, golden, sideways-leaning way.

" _From Mr & Mrs Novak_."

He threw the note over his shoulder, offhandedly, letting it fall to the floor - he could picture it in his mind; his mother, pointing her well-manicured nails at said Christmas tree, paying, and then the relieved expression on both her and Mr Novak's faces when one of their handlers brought it home to Cas, so that they wouldn't have to bother with it, or risk meeting him.

"They're just the best" he sighed to no one, sarcastically, a strongly bitter undertone in his voice.

He glanced down at his arm watch, considered for a moment to put on a record on his turntable, but decided that two thirty was a good time to go to bed.

As he slid down on his stomach under the duvet, shuddering slightly from the cold, a golden green light shone in through the window to his right. It disappeared again, but not before it had reminded him of sparkling orbs... dark lashes... crinkles at the sides of those eyes when he smiled that deep smile of his... Tiny freckles, slightly tanned skin, soft, smirking lips, a strong jaw with a little stubble... That man was going to be in his apartment in less than twenty-four hours...

Cas started to sweat a little at the thought. What in God's name had he been thinking? He had practically been raised in church, raised to honor, be quiet and fall in line behind his father. What he hadn't been raised to do was run around with beautiful, fallen angels. Even though Cas didn't really believe in God - something he'd never admit to his parents unless he wanted to be completely cut off - he had sometimes talked to Him, as he often lacked anyone else to open up to.

Oh Lord, what had he done? He had started to fall for someone who was completely wrong, but at the same time so utterly right - that was what he had done. And as he was lying there, he actually prayed, and he prayed with all the hopes of heaven that Dean would be his salvation and not his demise.

 

* * *

 

 

Meg strolled homeward in the freezing winter night - she hardly even felt the cold, thanks to the alcohol flowing through her; if she felt it, at least it didn't bother her.

She thought about how flushed hot and pink Cas' face had been when she had said goodbye to him earlier, giving his upper arm a friendly punch. His blue eyes had flickered around and he had blushed worse than ever, but she hadn't thought much of it - he always seemed nervous about something.

Now she was walking back to the group home alone. She thought about calling one of her usual guys, having him meet up with her, bringing him back and sneaking him in through her window. Or maybe she could call Clifford and see if he had something exciting and new for her to try. Those ideas where her first choices everytime she was alone and bored, but right now she didn't really feel like those fake relations would be enough - she was more at ease just walking along the white streets by herself, kicking gravel in front of her with her boots, thinking about the surprisingly fun night she had had. Although, she would rather die than admit that she had had anything even remotely resembling fun.

She was halfway home when her mobile phone started to vibrate angrily in her pocket, claiming her attention. She slided it out effortlessly, and looked at the screen.

A snowflake landed on the tip of her nose.

"Speak of the devil" she said when she answered, placing the phone by her ear, screen to cheek.

"Hey, Meggy" Clifford cheered on the other end, a strangely shakily nervous undertone in his voice. "What're you doing?" He tried to sound casual, but Meg knew him a little better than that.

"It's this new thing called walking. Ever heard of it?" she said blandly and sarcastically. "You should take Bella out to try it sometime. He needs it." She imagined Bella's fat ass, and she could hear Clifford snort through the speaker, almost chuckling, almost relaxed, but when he spoke again the nervousness was still there.

"Yeah, right! Ehm, Megs... You in town?" He started to sound impatient, hurrying the conversation along. Meg could hear voices in the background.

"What's the right answer? Do I get a lollipop if I say yes?" she asked, serious, bland and a little bit worried, even though she refused to let her voice tremble.

Clifford was quiet for a long few seconds.

"Either way." He chuckled dryly, shortly. "They want their cash, Megs. Crow wants his cash. Preferably yesterday."

She stiffened, suddenly feeling the cold wind seep in through the thin, black leather jacket.

"I'm trying, but the idiots down at the bank have grown suspicious, and Cecil-" she said trying to sound as calm and composed as she possibly could.

"I know, Megs, but it's not their problem!" he interrupted, exclamatory in a low, hissing tone of voice.

They ended the conversation abruptly when commotion and angry voices grew audibly in the background. Meg quickly shoved the phone back down into the small left pocket on her jacket, before she hurried on her steps, rubbing her suddenly shaking, cold hands and freezing fingers together, trying to warm them. She tried not to throw frightened, suspicious glances around her as she scurried on; she didn't want to risk anyone seeing her anxious. She was though. Strong. Nothing could scare her, not even Crowley and the collectors with their lust to draw blood.


	6. Home is a safe harbor

Dean was due to arrive any second and Cas wasn't even close to done with cleaning his apartment. He hadn't been awake for long, and as soon as he had woken up, filled with agony remembering the previous night, he had jumped in the shower.

Now he stood frozen in the middle of his living room; there were clothes here and there on every piece of furniture from earlier when he had rumaged through his closet in search of the perfect outfit for a night like tonight. The christmas tree hadn't been decorated and he had forgotten to fix something to eat as well as bring down the chrismas lights and ornaments from the attic.

"Crap" he said under his breath, as he looked out over the battle field that was his home. "Should have known, that's what I get when I for once stay out late" he mouthed to no one.

He drew a deep breath and exhaled sharply, gathering strenght for a moment before he started running around, grabbing clothes and coffee mugs and school text books and anything else that was inte wrong place. Eventually he stopped, looked out over the kitchen and the living room, affirmed to himself that it looked alright, and carried on into his bedroom, his arms holding a tight grip around all the misplaced items. He stopped in his tracks again, thinking, wondering, until he ended up hurling everything into his closet, slamming the door shut quickly before everything could fall back out. Before he had stepped into the shower, he had prepared and layed out clothes on his bed, which he was glad he had done - he didn't really feel like opening his closet any time soon, risking being buried alive by the stuff tucked in there.

He had just pulled up his pants and gotten the burgundy-coloured sweater over his head, when the door bell rang, and he started to get nervous, heart hammering fast and hard in his chest as he moved out from his bedroom, over the floor, towards the door, straightening his sweater on the way.

"Jesus!" he exclaimed the second he opened the front door, jumping a little before relaxing, sighing with relief.

"People keep calling me that" Meg said blandly as she stepped inside, and Cas suddenly felt how a wall rose around him, trying to force her out with his nervous, loud thoughts, not actually doing anything physically.

"You can't be here" he blathered out, eyes flickering down the stairwell before he reluctantly closed the door.

"Wha- Yes- Yes I can" she prompted, turning to him, brows furrowed, slightly confused but barely showing it. "Were you dropped on your head or something, Clarence? I'm the friend your parents pay for. It's sad, really."

Cas quickly rolled his eyes involuntarily, trying not to fidget and move his feet on the spot.

"Even though I never see much of that money" she continued, muttering. She turned and moved further into the living room, offhandedly sitting down on the couch, leaning back casually. When she picked up a book from a pile of litterature on the floor, Cas made a mental note to clean those away too.

"No- I mean- You- I'm... I'm going to have someone ov- company... soon" he stuttered, trying to sound nonchalant about it.

Meg frowned at the book and flipped through it swiftly without actually reading or even stopping at a page to see what it was.

"You never have people over" she said without raising her eyes from the poorly misjudged book. "I'm all you've got, unicorn. I'm all there is- I'm everything" she teased him confidently with a grin. "What is this?" she said, finally seeming to pay attention to the words on the pages in her hands, scowling even more. "It sucks- Clarence, you keep finding new ways to suck... Ha. Get it? Suck."

Cas suddenly snapped, snatched the book out of her hands, and glanced down at the red cover as he threw it onto the coffee table. It was a collection of poems and short stories, one of the best books he had, actually.

"I'm going to have someone over, and you can't be here" he said sternly, peering his eyes, trying to pin down her dirty soul. She merely raised a brow and smirked half-heartedly.

"Is it your fuck-buddy?" she asked, snorting - she would have broken out laughing if she couldn't have helped it.

"No- It's not- I'm n-" He didn't know what to say, blushing from head to toe. "It doesn't matter. You can't be here. I am a human being and it's a free country and I have rights."

He gestured for her to stand up, and Meg didn't refuse as she was too focused on the taunting - it amused her immensely.

"Emphasizing on the male aspect of it" she continued, ignoring what he had said, while Cas ushered her towards the door. "A maaale prostitute, maybe? Again, I can't stress this enough. And you know it's illegal to buy sex, right, angel?" She pretended to be stern, shooting him a pointed glance, as Cas opened the door, forcing her out. "I was gonna say R and R, but I think I and I is better - intercourse and intoxication."

"Bye, Meg." And then he closed the door in her face, stopping her from saying anything more.

He heavily leaned his back against the door for a moment, squeezing his eyes shut, trying to calm his racing heart by taking deep breaths and slowly counting to ten. The deep pounding, drumming sound of his heartbeats had almost faded entirely from his ears when the doorbell rang again, and when he jerked the door open he was ready to shout at Meg to go away, but he quickly shut himself up when he found Dean standing there with one hand in the pockets of his washed out jean's and one hand clutching a plastic bag. He had a dark blue sweater under his brown leather jacket, a shy-ish grin on his face, and a gray beanie on to match his cute charm - he even seemed to have trimmed the stubble on his chiseled jaw a little since he had seen him last.

"Hi" Cas mouthed, half surprised and half fluttering butterfly wings. He tried not to show how starstruck he felt, even though the air had left his lungs and his throat felt thick and dry, but he didn't think he did a very good job of concealing it.

"You seem surprised." Dean raised his eyesbrows and smiled a half smile at the same time, creating those small, cute crinkles by his golden green eyes, which Cas had had such a hard time forgetting. "You thought I was gonna be a no-show?"

"I don't- I hadn't thought about that" Cas stuttered.

"Well! I'm here. Like I said." Dean smirked triumphantly, before his smile cracked and faded away. "Even though I'm breaking all my rules." He threw a quick, worried glance behind him, and then turned back to Cas. "I missed you" he said suddenly, voice deep. He looked nervous and honest and uncomfortable, and he seemed to fidget a little in his brown leather jacket. "More than anything. And I'm not used to that. If I was smart, I'd just leave right now."

"Wha- More than...?" Cas repeated to himself, questioningly, not knowing if he had really heard what he thought he had heard. He almost stumbled over the words again, the warmth spreading up his throat to his cheeks and up the sides of his face. He felt like a complete idiot; how was he supposed to be able to interact with such a beautiful, urban man?

"Anything" Dean filled in with a half smile. "Why's your hair wet?" he suddenly asked, frowning, changing the subject, almost too quickly for Cas to keep up.

He drew a sharp breath, stepped aside and gestured for Dean to enter.

"I took a shower."

"Wow" Dean mouthed to the apartment when he finally stepped inside and looked around, surprise and maybe a hint of disappointment on his face.

"Is it that bad?" Cas tried to chuckle but he sounded too stiff, too nervous and too serious.

"No!" he answered quickly. "It's just... It's... very... nice." He pursed his lips and nodded a little to himself. "Awesome. Really awesome... Compared to the hole in the wall that I've got, anyway!" He didn't seem too sure - he even made the word 'nice' sound like something that you would say to your mother-in-law's collection of tiny porcelain cats.

"It's a magazine article, I know."

Dean nodded, chuckling, seeming relieved that Cas had said it first.

"Very 'rich mama's boy', yeah." He took a few more steps inside, but when Cas scowled and cleared his throat, he stopped and turned towards him with a questioning expression.

"Your shoes" he admonished.

Dean looked down and seemed to realize that he actually had shoes on, as if he had forgotten.

"Oh. Sorry." He quickly went back to the door, kicked them off, dropped his plastic bag next to them, hanged his jacket on the coat hanger and stuffed the beanie in one of the pockets. Then he resumed strolling around the living room.

Cas followed him with his eyes, inspecting him as he inspected Cas' home.

"This place just doesn't look very... very you, you know what I mean?"

Cas knew what he meant.

"Or maybe I've got the wrong idea about you" he chuckled.

"I know exactly what you mean" Cas admitted out loud. "I just moved here and I haven't even unpacked yet, so... These- These things aren't mine..." He nodded around them at the room. "Well, they're mine, but not mine mine- I mean- My parents-"

"It's okay, Cas. You don't have to." Dean looked around some more. "The couch feels wrong" he said, suddenly. "And the tree... I gotta be honest; I'm not much for Christmas, but even I don't wanna talk about that bare tree."

"What are you now, some sort of expert on what a home should look like?" Cas teased, relaxing a little. A second later he could see on Dean's face when his heart sank, and he felt bad - he had obviously said something that he shouldn't.

"I just-" He shrugged his shoulders shortly, hands in the front pockets of his jeans. "You know... Home is important."

They were quiet for a long second before Dean broke the silence, sounding a little more light-hearted again.

"We should move it. The couch" he said, seemingly on a whim, crossing his arms in front of him, inspecting the furniture. "Or is that weird?" he asked quickly, turning to Cas - as if he hadn't considered it earlier. He had a plain, honest, child-like, questioning expression on his face, and Cas' heart softened while he also had his hands full trying to register all the different sides of Dean.

"Ehm" Cas murmured. "No, I- It's not- not weird...?" He wasn't sure if he had answered Dean's question, or if he had merely asked one himself. "I've never done anything like this before" he said tentatively, trying to keep from slipping into that nervous place again.

"What? You've never had a guy over?" Dean chuckled as he met Cas' stare with a warm, amused grin which only grew wider when Cas shook his head. "Well, damn" he said emphatically with that rumbling, deep voice of his. "I'm flattered."

Cas' neck started growing hot again, and he cleared his throat, moving around a little on the spot and scratched the back of his head.

"So... Are we moving the couch or not?"

They had to do several laps around the room, open two beers which Dean had brought, move the couch back and forth, stare at it from time to time and move it a few more times before they felt good about the result.

"Think you can live with this?" Dean said with feignd concern, crossing his arms in front of his chest again. They were standing behind the couch which now faced the huge windows, examining the scene. The Christmas tree was still in the right corner and the TV in the left, but Dean had lifted the coffee table straight up with all its stuff still on it, and placed it down between the windows and the couch.

Cas nodded once.

"I think I could learn to" he said, pretending that he wasn't at all as pleased as he really was. "I do like to look at the sky at night" he continued, walking around the couch to take a closer look at the evening outside. "This way I get front row seats."

"What's that word, that's-... Feng shui, is it?" Dean chuckled. "We feng shuied the hell outta this bitch." He followed Cas around the furniture and sat himself down. "What's this?" he mumbled under his breath, mostly to himself, and Cas turned to look at him just as he picked up the forgotten red poetry book from the coffee table, and flipped it open on a random page. " _There was a man who I once knew,_ " he read aloud. " _for me there was no other. The closer to loving me he grew, the more he would grow further._ " He stopped and scowled, pondering, peering his eyes and pursing his lips.

When Cas heard those words combined with Dean's deep voice, he couldn't help but compare the half-read poem to their own situation - although, ever since yesterday he seemed to compare everything to Dean.

"Lang Leav" he commented. "I like that book." He turned around again to resume his gazing out through the windows. "There are some really good ones in there. I think it has that Simon Cleary one too."

Dean didn't answer.

Pages flipped with a feathery-light sound.

" _Flat Of Angles by Simon Cleary_ " he read aloud. "That's the one?" He looked up. Cas nodded and Dean turned his attention back to the book.

After a moment, Cas heard him move behind him from one side of the room to the other, clicking open the glass door to his stereo - he would recognize that clicking-sound anywhere. The stereo was a big, old thing on wheels, the size of a cupboard. He had insisted on keeping it, even though his parents had wanted to by him something new, more modern, but he found his old one pretty useful since it could play both CDs and cassettes, and it also held a turntable atop. Dean went through the drawer under the shelf which the stereo rested on, flipping through album after album. Eventually Cas turned and walked over to him where he sat on the floor, legs crossed in front of him, sparkling eyes fixated on the albums like a kid at Christmas - ironically literal.

Cas swiftly picked up an album with the cover art of a white license plate on a blue background, slid the record out of its case, and placed it under the needle on the turntable, lowering it and turning it on.

"Vinyl is my favourite. I love the crackle" he said out loud, for some reason.

The needle and the record met, crackling for a second before it started playing, The Mamas And The Papas singing California Dreamin' to a nice bassline.

"It has a better sound... This one's great..."

"Old school, huh?" Dean chuckled and smiled to himself, flipping through records by The Beatles, Elvis Presley, Billie Holiday, Johnny Mathis, and Frankie Valli, but also newly produced ones by Ed Sheeran and Jason Mraz.

"I love the classics, but I like new stuff too" Cas commented nervously. "Tony Bennett isn't really as bad as he sounds" he quickly added when he saw Dean frown at a deep blue album. "There's only- really- like, one song on there, that I like, anyway, so..." He trailed off.

"A responsive purist, then." Dean's grin widened when his fingers stopped, finding an old record by Boston and another by Guns 'N' Roses behind an American Breed one. "Why the hell have you been hiding these back here for? Music should be played, not stored."

Cas moved over to the kitchen counter to get some perspective, breaking the heat he felt radiating from Dean. He leaned his back against the counter, watching the man sitting on the floor by the stereo flipping through the various collection of CDs and vinys that Cas had found over the years, and he wondered what ghosts Dean carried around in the back of his mind.

As Cas watched him, he realized that the apartment somehow looked better with Dean in it - less uninviting and cold, and more like a home. Cas' home. Dean actually were kind of pretty - underneath that tough exterior Cas could destinguish something bright and sweet.

"I don't know" he answered honestly. "Guess I haven't really felt like listening to anything... for a while."

"Until now?" Dean turned his head to look at him, brows raised, smirking pointedly at Cas, before turning back, continuing to flip through records.

"Don't be so full of yourself" Cas teased and Dean's grin widened.

"When I was a kid, I liked to listen to my dad's music. He only had, like, these tapes with mixed rock bands. But they were great... He had this-" In the middle of his sudden excitement, he started to gesture with his hands in between flipping through the albums. "Well, he still does... This beautiful old, sixty-seven, pitch black Chevy Impala! Complete with squeaky doors and a hidden cache in the trunk. There's a tiny army man stuck in the ashtray! Sammy crammed it down there - you should have seen that one, Cas! And I shoved some Legos into the vents once too!" He grinned, eyes sparkling as he talked about that car. "Anyway. So, we'd sit there, listening to dad's tapes and be hardcore sons of bitches." His smile faltered and faded at the memory as he stopped talking. The silence in the air tattled to Cas that there was more to Dean's story. "Yeah, she's a beauty, that car" he then added. "Hope he leaves her to me, but I wouldn't bet a chip of a toenail on it."

Cas took a step forward, out of some new instinct to touch and comfort Dean, but he stopped himself halfway, sitting down on the couch instead, leaning over the back of it, still watching Dean as he explored Cas' apartment.

"You got any more?"

Cas nodded towards his bedroom door without thinking it through, and when Dean stood up and disappeared in there, he thought of how it was the first time ever that he had a guy in his bedroom.

"Hey, you got those memory foam mattresses in here?" Dean howled excitedly from the other room before he returned to the living room with a happy, child-like smile on his face. "Look at this thing!" He had found Cas' old polaroid camera in one of the boxes, and he let it dangle in its strap, hanging from his fingers.

Cas snorted with a half smile. And here he had thought that Dean Winchester was a big bad macho man, when in fact he was a real cutie pie.

"Yeah. When I was, about, fifteen, I was set on becoming a photographer, but my dad didn't like it so he refused to by me a camera." Cas remembered it clear as day, and he remembered the more than harsh words that his father had uttered, as well. "So I got that one for myself. Couldn't afford a better one."

Dean turned it up side down, opening and examining it thoroughly.

"There's film left" he confirmed, still with that grin. Then he turned the camera around towards himself and clicked the shutter, freezing the moment. The camera went off, buzzing for a second, spitting out a square photograph which Dean wiggled in the air between his index finger and thumb. He looked at it with an even wider grin before he continued around the couch, sitting down next to Cas, throwing the photograph in his lap. "Here you go. A handsome guy for you to keep in... your pants, or something. For rainy days, when I'm not around." Dean seemed to be making everything up as he went along, and Cas tried not to blush, taking the photograph. He really was handsome, but when he said it himself, it didn't whole-heartedly sound like he really believed it. "Don't get it too sticky" he joked, and Cas failed all at once in his attempts to keep the blushing at a minimum.

"Anything else you want to see?" he said, referring to Dean's rummaging, trying to lighten the mood and steer the conversation in a different direction.

The song changed and the soft strumming sound of a guitar emerged.

" _While I'm far away from you, my baby, I know it's hard for you, my baby, because it's hard for me, my baby, and the darkest hour is just before dawn..._ "

"Laugh all you want, Cas. I'm actually trying to get to know you here" Dean said with a smirk before raising the camera to his eye, clicking the shutter while aiming the lens straight forward over the coffe table, towards the windows. Then he turned the camera on Cas and clicked it again while Cas' eyes were busy looking for stars on the sky. "And as I said, I don't usually do that... Get to know a guy, I mean... Don't usually open up this quickly either. Don't know what the hell is wrong with me today. Dammit."

Cas turned his head and caught Dean looking at him through the lens. He snatched the camera and turned it on Dean instead, took a picture of him, then turned around in his seat to take one of the kitchen, and a close-up of a deviating pattern in the couch.

"I saw you last night and I just though, you know, screw it!"

Cas' hands started to feel clammy and he couldn't quite decide if he felt freezing cold or scoarching hot. Listening to Dean talking like that, all intimate, made his head spin and his thoughts cloudy.

"But people can't know. You gotta promise me that... Cas?" He suddenly sounded so harsh and stern and worried that it made Cas worried too, something flipping over in his stomach, and when Cas turned the lens towards him again he was looking straight out through the windows.

He didn't really have the time to think as much about it and wonder back and forth whether he was ready to commit like that - Dean was too quick for him. But Cas also kind of wanted to see where Dean was going with it all. What exactly did he want?

"I promise" he said when he realized that Dean was doing all the talking. Voice faint. "I mean, I can't have people confirming their gossip about me... anyway... so..." He lowered the camera to his lap, all of a sudden growing bored with it.

They were silent again for a moment, the air between them heavy with the conversation topic.

"Oh, yeah, I almost forgot!" Dean suddenly stood up, walked over to the door, grabbed the plastic bag from the floor and returned to Cas on the couch. He pulled out a squashy gift, clumsily wrapped in red and white paper, handing it over to Cas. "Merry Christmas, or somethin'... Maybe it's weird, but, you know... It's just a little something I had laying around, and I thought it could be fun, so... Don't-" He cut himself off, not know where he was going with the explanation. "I got it from a guy over in Santa Cruz. He's crazy about that sorta stuff."

Cas quickly and clumsily unwrapped the gift, finding a pink v-necked t-shirt inside. He held it up infront of him, examining the two printed hands pointing their thumbs up towards the neckline, the text under them saying "This girl plays with WIENERS" in big black letters, followed by the silhuette of a small dog.

"Funny, Dean" he breathed sarcastically. "Really funny."

Dean merely gave him a half smile, winking.

"And it's truthful as well."

"When the heck am I gonna wear this thing then?" He let the pink shirt dangle from his right index finger, giving Dean a doubtful smile. "Tomorrow maybe, with my parents, in church?"

"Tonight" Dean suggested. "In bed- No, wait- On second thought... Not in bed." His smirk grew even more wolfishly. "No clothes allowed in bed." They hadn't slept together, obviously - Cas hadn't even thought of it as a possibility. Dean just seemed to find it incredibly funny to tease Cas until he blushed, his cheeks flushed hot and pink.

"Yeah, well..." The words stuck in his throat and his cheeks grew hot. He threw quick glances at Dean, his eyes darting around. Dean looked gorgeous, leaning back, cool as a cucumber. "Thanks" he said nervously, putting the t-shirt and the wrapping paper away. "Should we do something about that tree as well?" he asked, changing the subject. Why did he have to blush at everything Dean said or did?

Dean nodded flatly and stood up, hurling himself and Cas out the door, and Cas led the way to the crowded storage room where he kept most of his stuff tucked away in more boxes. They found the ones with "Christmas" written on them in black marker, and hurried back to the warmth of the apartment, completely set on not having to walk more times than necessary, taking as many boxes as they could possibly carry at once.

Eventually, when the ornaments consisting of beige glass angels, white orbs, the occasional wooden baubles and different-coloured twinkling lights, lit up the christmas tree behind Dean who was leaning back on the couch once again, Cas felt at ease.

"Are you hungry?" he asked, suddenly reminded of how he had not asked him that earlier; after all, he was raised to be a good host. It was just that Dean managed to annihilate every thought in Cas' head without actually doing anything but merely existing.

"Famished" he answered unnecessarily seductively.


	7. Know your place

"I can assure you that the nature of mine and Dean's relationship is purely platonic" Cas assured, biting down a smile. He tried to sound convincing even to himself, but failing miserably as Meg shook her head at his stone face in disbelief.

The radio played lowly as they swooshed forward on the grey sludge-covered road towards the church. The car jerked here and there when Cas accidentally hit the snow in between the tire tracks. He had never really liked the early morning sermons, and Meg had never been to one at all. Although, eleven o'clock was only early if one had been up too late the previous night, which he had.

"Yeah, sure it is" she said ironically. "I saw him walk up to you last night."

Cas' phone gave out a loud beep, announcing that he had a text. He struggled with the coat for a moment before he managed to pulled the phone out of the pocket. The short message made him smile faintly when he read it. As said; it was short, yet meaningful.

"Call me. Dean."

"Tell your platonic friend not to text you while you're driving" Meg sneered. "We're all gonna die some day, I just don't want to miss out on meeting Mrs God- I mean, your mommy dearest."

He dropped the phone in his lap and grasped the wheel with both hands, squeezing it, silently wishing for this Christmas day to hurry up and be over.

"Don't worry" Cas said reassuringly with a sigh. "My mother's hard to miss. Her favourite passtime is flirting to convert. Soon you're gonna wish you'd never met her."

Meg listened a little closer for a second, brows furrowed, before she turned up the volume on the radio, letting Johnny Cash's heavy blues beat intrude on their word-sharing.

"Go and tell that long tongue liar, go and tell that midnight rider. Tell the rambler, the gambler, the back biter. Tell 'em that God's gonna cut 'em down..."

She snorted shortly.

"This is funny for five reasons. One; we're going to church" she said blandly, counting on her fingers. She bit her lower lip and glanced up as she pretended to think about it. "Two; you're a long tongue liar, and probably a long tongue-other things as well. Three; because. Four; because. And five; because."

Cas ignored her.

He was right though; there was no getting rid of his mother. A slender woman in a knee-length, plain, pale gray, two-piece suit dress with a matching little jacket under a long black coat, stood waiting for them at the parking lane outside the church when they pulled up. Her auburn hair was brushed neatly and fixated in a conservative office-womanly kind of way, shining in the sunlight. To Cas, she was the very essence of the town; he had hated the place while growing up, and when they had moved away from the frozen-in-time, narrow-minded, sunshiny hole in the ground, overrun by bigots and conservatives, a piece of that cold stone had lifted from his heart. But now he had been forced back again, and the sight of his mother now was like being thrust back into his childhood completely. The scene in front of him could easily have passed for a commercial of snow shovels or maybe some Christian association. The probability was that it would have been the latter.

"Hi!" the woman cheered with a big, white, polite smile, taking Meg's hand in hers - she expected the assumed Mrs Novak to shake hands, but nothing happened, so she let go.

"I'm Meg" she said awkwardly.

"Oh, yes, I thought so" the woman replied, still smiling but at the same time eyeing Meg up and down with a concerned expression. As if she thought Meg didn't notice. "I am Naomi Novak, Castiel's mother."

"Not intentionally, I'm sure."

Naomi peered her eyes and furrowed her brows slightly at Meg, with a confused expression, before she continued.

"We are all so glad that you wanted to celebrate our Lord's birth with us today, Meg! God opens his arms with love for you."

Meg snorted and chuckled, as if she wanted to burst out laughing.

"Well, I didn't have much choice" she answered with a cold half smile. "Unless I wanted to be homeless."

Cas pulled at the arm of her jacket discretely and cleared his throat.

"She's just joking" he said stiffly. He tried to smooth it over, but he could see on his mother's face that there wasn't going to be any smoothing over; as long as no one was around to hear, she was going to say what ever she had on her mind.

"Won't you go on inside, miss Masters" she said with her eyes fixed on her son. "We will be right behind you."

Meg gave him a pointed nod, one eyebrow raised, as she slowly walked ahead up the white gravel walk towards the tall church building.

"We both know you're not well, Castiel" his mother addressed him suddenly. "You need to suppress... it, and especially here in the house of our Lord. You need God. Can you do that for Him? For us?" she said lowly, with a sort of disgust in her voice. "You don't want to go to hell, do you? Because that's where you'll end up if you keep living this sick-..." She interrupted herself and glanced around worriedly, sighing vaguely as she noted that everyone had gone inside already; no one were around to hear them.

It was the usual rant but it still hurt. He kept quiet as he always did. Early on, he had learnt that it was best to just stay silent when his parents spoke their mind about him, talking past him as if he was still a child. If he opposed them or even breathed the wrong way, it would only get so much worse.

"Do we understand each other, Castiel?" She didn't wait for his answer. "Good! Now, let's get inside before your father and your friend starts to wonder where we've gone off to!" The word 'friend' she pronounced as if she hadn't at all payed Meg off to keep him company.

She chirped and placed an arm awkwardly around him, squeezed him closer for a second before she let go and walked ahead. Her black heels click-clacked a little when she stepped from the gravel to the church's stone entrance.

"She's nice" Meg said sardonically when he caught up with her.

She had waited by the door to the church, probably eager to try and listen in on them. Although she couldn't have heard more than a few bits and pieces from that distance. She gave him a confounded look, an expression that he hadn't seen on her pale, heart-shaped face before. Maybe she wondered how a mother could oppose her child in such a horrible way; people always seemed to be shocked and appalled whenever they found out something like it, but then they would always forget and move on. To Cas, it was normal.

So he wasn't too surprised about her comment; his mother could fool anyone. Anyone but him.

"I hate it" she suddenly muttered, making Cas smile a little to himself. "But, hey, two can play that game. I'm gonna-... I could be so friendly, it'd hurt. But it's just not how I roll."

"Of course not" he sighed lowly. He really wished she would behave.

They entered the bright, crowded church. The high-reaching stone walls were white and there were golden details here and there in every corner, but thoughtfully enough not too much that it would look showy. Greed was after all a sin, according to the red velvet book with gold trimmed pages. The pulpit high up on the wall had a small, red, velvet tapestry with golden tassels hanging down the front. "God is the love" was embroidered on it. One the wall at the far end of the room was a giant painting of a white Jesus surrounded by children and women with stiff smiles and expressionless eyes. It occurred to Cas that it was a pretty accurate depiction of religion. Your empty eyes reflected your empty mind where you didn't have any thoughts of your own because you let yourself be blindly led to follow a long-since dead wizard. Every dark wooden bench was packed from right to left with those people, believers who joyfully and respectably chatted away lowly with each other. The air buzzed with their voices. Two old women stood at the end of the aisle, talking with reverence to the priest and Cas' father. Their fragile knees cracked when they curtsied. Everything was exactly as he had remembered it.

"You know, Mrs God" Meg said, catching up with Naomi at the end of the aisle. "I don't like you. You're mean. And you can't really threaten your son and his atheist gal pal with God or hell or any of those concoctions."

She earned a surprised, displeased stare from Naomi, who otherwise tried to keep a calm and straight face in front of the other church-goers and people in general that were outside of her own family. She had strutted down the aisle behind Mr Novak, but she had stopped in her steps when Meg had spoken up to her.

"Atheist?" she whispered, almost hissed, as if it was a swearword. "I get the feeling you haven't accepted our Lord and savior in your heart, miss Masters. You need someone to teach you your place in this world."

"We've got a deal." She shrugged a shoulder. Her dark brown curls bounced. "I don't get all up in his business and he stays clear outta mine."

"But I would have you know, that the head of every man is Christ; and the head of the woman is the man; and the head of Christ is God" Naomi cited. "Corinthians. Do you have a man in your life, miss Masters?"

"I just told you I don't ever let a man order me around."

"I see. If you did then you would know better than too stick your nose where it doesn't belong. My family is of no concern to you. How I raise my children is of no concern to you. And when I leave this world I shall enter His house justified." She seemed to grow, almost towering over Meg who responded with cold indifference. "You were hired as a plaything for my youngest son. I should have inspected the assortment closer before picking you."

Both Naomi and her husband took their seats in the front row. Meg sat down in the row behind them, pulling an anxious Cas down next to her. A fire seemed to have ignited in her chest and she leaned forward as the minister started his preaching.

"All I'm saying is that if you keep treating Cas like garbage, you'll pay for it" she whispered in Naomi's ear. "What you and your old man have done, and what you're still doing, is the kind of things people get hurt for."

Naomi didn't turn around, but she flinched and her neck stiffened.

"Oh, and did you know that child abuse is illegal? An actual crime? Who'd have known" Meg kept whispering. Cas' scarred chest came to her mind and turned her thoughts dark.

"In the name of the father, the son and the holy spirit" the priest said, making the cross sign in the air in front of him with one hand. "Let us pray."

Mrs Novak's skin grew paler and her posture more stern.

"You better pray that your God looks the other way on that one, because I'm not so sure about it."

I'm screwed, was all Cas thought when he overheard Meg's threat. He swallowed the lump in his throat just as Meg pulled him back up on his feet, down the aisle and out into the open air again, too numb to refuse. Their steps echoed and people looked after them as they left, like nosy little anteaters.

A snowflake landed on his forehead, reminding him of a party and a green-eyed guy.

"Get in the car."

"What are you doing, Meg?" he sighed loudly as he unlocked his car and did as she told him, sinking down behind the wheel. He felt drained.

A throbbing headache emerged in the left side of his head as his body started to trash its walls, letting the warmth out and the cold in. All that strength that he had mustered up earlier that morning, poured out of every pore and left him. It felt as though he had been holding his breath for the last half hour, because he suddenly had to draw deep ones. He couldn't explain it. Breathing, all of a sudden, felt like trying to get over a really high threshold, and every time he didn't breathe deep enough, everything felt wrong. Slowly, he slid deeper down into his seat, focusing on the sole effort of continuing to take in air, methodically in and out. His right foot rested on the gas pedal.

"I just-..." She looked baffled, as if she couldn't believe how he wasn't more upset; another expression that wasn't part of her usual day-to-day range of emotions. "Didn't you hear what she said to you?"

Cas wondered how she could stay so calm and sound so mad at the same time.

"I'm not gonna-... You can't make me apologize for telling her the truth" she continued plainly, looking out through the window on her side of the car.

He was too tired. Tired of arguments and of wanting to stand up for himself. Opposing had never worked out well for him.

Meg silently stared out through the window all the way back to the group home. Cas didn't say much either.

"What are you doing? I'm supposed to do Christmas with you" she scowled when she saw where he was taking her. "I can't be back here yet."

He leaned over her and opened her door, pushing it wide open as a gesture for her to leave him alone.

"Tell your supervisor I gave you the day off" he said.

Tired, tired, tired. Lonely, lonely, lonely. He wanted to go home and be alone, although he didn't like to feel lonely.

"Meg... Please" he begged.

She finally gave up, got out of the car and slammed the door shut.

As he drove off he looked at the clock consisting of tiny black numbers on the radio. It was only eleven thirty - Christmas day had barely even started. What was he going to do until tonight? He couldn't go back to the church and then sit at the dark wooden dinner table in his parents house as if nothing was wrong. Meg had threatened Naomi. It was serious. Sure, she was a terrible person and an even worse mother, but he couldn't see what grounds Meg had to lash out at her that violently. It wasn't as if Meg would ever want to stick up for him, so it didn't make any sense. What punishment would he get for this?

He moaned aloud to himself, furrowing his brows, suddenly feeling sick; he had to pull over one or two times on the way home, leaning out the door by the side of the road, forearms resting on his knees, back bent forward, his head in his hands. It was close he threw up on the passenger seat.

When he finally got home to his apartment he went straight to bed, crashing on his stomach, fully clothed. Sleeping was the only thing he could think of to pass the time.

* * *

 

Some time later he opened his eyes, half awake, feeling hot and a little sweaty. The sun peered in at his bedroom floor, annoying him, although it seemed to be shining a little lower on the sky. He murmured to himself for a moment before he stood up, strained. He pulled down the blinds and offhandedly pulled off his clothes, only to crash on his stomach on the bed again. Falling asleep felt like dying but without the actual commitment. He thought about that as his mind slipped away again.

* * *

 

He was slowly awoken again as he felt something brush by behind his naked back, weighing down the mattress, and from nowhere he suddenly thought that he remembered the feel of that presence.

"Dean?" he mumbled, eyes closed, barely awake. "What are you doing here?"

The covers had slid down, only protecting him from the hips. For a second he wondered why the person behind him didn't say anything about the scars on his skin. Maybe it was too dark to see.

"This isn't my flirty face, this is my tired face" he grunted, face down into the pillow.

Somehow he recognized Dean's deep chuckle as he moved closer. They fit together like two perfect pieces of a puzzle and Cas trembled as skin met skin, connecting, aching, almost prickling hot. He felt as fingertips started stroking from his shoulder down his arm, and he quietly followed every feathery movement with all his focus. A tingle went through him as Dean traced down his side and over his hip bone.

"But you're allowed to quietly try and coax me into it..."

He couldn't help but smile a little to himself when he felt Dean's soft lips smiling against the nape of his neck. Dean's nose in his hair, his stomach against the small of his back. His right hand caressed around his thigh, squeezing gently, slowly moving closer and closer to his groin.

"Easy now... with my heart..."

"This is always" Dean murmured in his ear.

He pressed his entire self against Cas, his cock hard and lustful on his ass, almost sliding in between the thighs, and he palmed his hand over Cas' dick as he started rocking against him, only a mere few pieces of fabric separating them. When he softly bit at Cas' neck and sank his blunt nails into his thigh, it sent electric shivers right through Cas, making him moan and move his ass slightly against him, sharing Dean's rhythm.

"You and me-"

* * *

 

Cas woke up on his side, facing the wall, and slowly cracked his eyes open to find that the room was dark; not even the sunshine made its way in through the crevices in the blinds anymore. He closed his eyes again and slowly let his right hand discover the bedside behind him, searching. It was empty and cold. Waking up from a good dream was usually the worst, but this time it was even more painful.

The phone suddenly started to vibrate, ringing violently somewhere in the room, and Cas flew up, out of bed. He froze and tried to locate the ringing by moving around silently, listening. Though, the source of the sound proved to be easily found when he began thinking rationally, remembering and feeling around in the pockets of his clothes on the floor.

"Hey, Cas" a heavenly, deep voice said on the other end.

"Dean."

 


	8. Considering disobedience

Sometimes he came to realizations, sitting alone, his back bent, exhausted, glancing around the room, looking carefully at each item in it, letting his mind trail off on its own. Sometimes the realization was small, insignificant, sometimes it was incomprehensible, and sometimes his thoughts wandered off elsewhere without ever coming to a conclusion. But he always had it perfectly clear to himself what he meant. Now was one of those times.

He had pulled on his burgundy sweater from the previous day, and the briefs that had come off in a sweaty, frustrated haze along with his pants earlier. His legs were crossed in front of him, and his dark hair was tousled from twisting around in his sleep. He pulled his hand through it as his eyes wandered to the boxes to his right, and the bookcases to the left of the boxes. He smiled a little; the previous day when Dean had been in his bedroom, he had apparently started to unpack for him. A few books stood up next to each other in the bookcases. One of the books leaned itself against a white and pink sea shell - another thing he had once gotten from a girl. He didn't quite understand why girls had always found themselves attracted to him, and 'til just recently he had more than anything wished that he could return the affections.

The realization, this time, was this; all these items, all these things that he had, that everyone had nowadays, didn't exist a mere few years ago. And before that... In the beginning of it all, human beings had taken all the time in the world to discover and create and renew. Now everything was moving so fast. Before any of them could say hopscotch, there wouldn't be anything more to discover or create or renew. His books and the sea shell and the bookcases and the boxes and the room and his own life was just a tiny blip in a huge world which was spinning faster and faster, and soon they would all fall off.

Sounds like jibberish?

It was perfectly clear to Cas, anyway, and it made him sad and a little scared and at the same time completely calm, knowing that if he would go away or even die, nothing in the world would be different. Nothing would change. No statues would be built in his memory. No one would hunger-strike for what he believed in. No large amount of people would mourn him or change their way of thinking because of him. The planet wouldn't explode.

Dean had called to hear... Cas thought he was going to say that he called to hear what he was doing or to hear how his Christmas day had been, as if Cas was just anyone again and Dean had changed his mind entirely about the whole thing. But Dean had said that he had just come off work and that he was calling to hear Cas' voice. The flame which it lit in his chest was worth more than any monument or world-change. As long as Dean remembered him, he was fine with everyone else forgetting.

Now he sat alone on his bed in his dark bedroom, waiting for Dean to come over and make it all better. He had insisted that he was fine - despite having slept all day - but it was hard to resist when Dean Winchester himself wanted to come over. Cas thought about getting dressed and comb his hair, but for the moment, he couldn't really be bothered. He had hardly even let himself think about his parents or what had happened earlier at the church - he was too drained and too sick of fighting. For a moment he considered giving up on his family and people overall.

The books in the bookcases caught his attention again, and he stood up, moving closer to see which ones Dean had unpacked. His fingers caressed gently along the new as well as worn out paperbacks of novels, biographies, classics and works of collected poems, placed on the smooth wooden shelves in no particular order at all. His index finger stopped on the black back of _Anna Karenina_ , the thickest book he owned, and he rememebered that he was almost half-way through it. Maybe he should read a little before Dean got there - books had always calmed him down and made him feel at ease.

Something clanged out in the other room, causing him to jump a little. He slowly started to move towards the door, peeking out, heart suddenly racing. When he caught a glimpse of Meg throwing her head back, waterglass in hand, tucking away something in the back pocket of her tight black pants, he sighed deeply. She stood behind the counter in the kitchen, the refrigerator door was wide open behind her, and there was food scattered on the counter in front of her.

"Meg?" He carefully took one step at a time towards her.

She finally looked up at him and Cas thought it felt like looking at a ghost. Her eyes were bloodshot and tired, staring at him, and her skin seemed even more pale than usual.

"C-" She cleared her throat. "Cassy."

Great, she was still making up new nicknames for him, Cas thought as he moved closer.

Meg's voice was slow and toffee-like. She jerked her head sideways as if to snap back into the room.

"Are you alright?"

"Shut up." She frowned and wrinkled her nose at him, and he hadn't exactly expected any more gratitude for being concerned. "I'm trying to shake someone off, and I got so damn hungry" she explained. "You have some funny-looking little people in your yard, by the way." She pointed in the general direction of the living room with one hand, and ripped the plastic off a whole chicken with the other.

"I don't have a yard, Meg." He actually started to get a little worried. He moved closer until they stood on opposite sides of the counter, and he noticed that her hands were twitching as she tried to shove the thing deeper down into her back pocket. It looked big enough to be a CD case. "Are you on something? What did you take?"

"MDMA, speed, coke, ket, acid" she said blandly. "Take your pick." She pulled strands of meat off the chicken with her slightly unsteady fingers, before she moved around the counter and around him, out towards the front door, hands filled with pieces of meat, chewing. "I'm fine" she said, melancholy, smoothing it over.

The doorbell rang and Meg was quick to open.

"Oh... Well hi there, Dean-y boy" she said with one eyebrow raised.

Cas stiffened when Dean stepped inside, his heart suddenly rushing. But Dean merely looked at Meg, frowning at both her and all the meat in her hands.

"You're having a party there, curly Sue?" his voice rumbled like thunder at Meg.

"Jealous much?"

Dean yanked his head back and shook it from side to side slightly, deciding to ignore her, and when green eyes finally met blue, Cas remembered that he didn't have any pants on. He felt his cheeks grow hot the second he noticed Dean throwing a quick glance down at his briefs which were peeking out a little under his sweater, before Dean's eyes darted around and met Cas' blues again, blushing himself.

"Oh, so Dean Winchester really _is_ of that persuasion?" Meg commented, clearly having noticed the quick, oh so subtle glance at Cas' underwear. She snorted shortly at them both. "Well... I guess I owe you, Cas."

The heat spred from Cas' cheeks and down his neck when Meg hinted at the fact that they had been talking about Dean. He could see it all over Dean's face the second he froze, hands turned into fists at his sides. Cas' heart sank.

"Don't listen to her. She's harmless" Cas said, trying to ease Dean's worry. It didn't look like he was succeeding.

"Yeah, harmless" Meg repeated.

"You okay, man?" Dean asked stiffly, directing his attention towards Cas again, his usual manly, casual fasade back up. Probably because of Meg, Cas though.

"Yes, I'm fine."

"Let's just say that parents are fucking horrible." Meg didn't say anything else, she merely waltzed out the door, muttering to herself, something about having connections, knowing how to get away with murder, and how it would be a murder but not a crime. She turned around and smirked shortly at them before she put another chunk of chicken in her mouth and disappeared down the stairs.

They were silent for a moment.

"Who was that?" Dean asked sternly, face blank, eyes distant. He gave the door a push, turning his back at it as it slid shut.

"Meg. She's just a-... a friend" Cas answered.

Dean didn't look convinced. His brows were furrowed and he had a strange, hard look in his eyes.

"I can't have people running their freckin' mouths about me" he said.

"Don't you think I know that?" Cas snapped suddenly. "Don't you think I heard you the first couple of times you said it?"

"Hey, man, don't you yell at me" Dean said harshly, raising his voice. "All I'm saying is a little heads up woulda been nice!"

"I didn't know she was even here" Cas retorted, crossing his arms. "I didn't even ask you to come- _You_ called _me_!" His heart had started to race again, but this time it was for all the wrong reasons. He almost couldn't believe why Dean took this so bad. Almost.

"Oh so that's how it's gonna be huh? Yeah, I could leave again, if that's what you want" Dean hissed through his teeth, on the verge of taunting. "And you better be freckin' sure the brunette ain't talking!" Dean threw his hand straight out, whipping his whole arm around to gesture at the door. The motion evoked an image in Cas' mind, making him flinch and take a step away instinctively, raising his hands in front of his face.

Dean drew a sharp breath, still holding his hand out towards the door, as the argument halted abruptly. He stared uncomprehendingly at Cas, watching him as he slowly lowered his hands, and Cas peeked back at Dean between his fingers to see if it really was Dean who stood there, or if it was his father.

"Wha-...?"

"Sorry... I- I just-..." Cas began to stutter, voice small. He didn't finish. He didn't know how. He just... He just what? He had just seen his father raising his hand to hit him?

Dean looked at him, seeming pensive for a moment. Then he sighed, drew one hand down his scruffy jaw, shook his head and smiled softly at Cas.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry, Cas. I'm an idiot. You're so damn stunning, Cas. You know that?" He took a slow step closer.

Cas willed his heart and his breathing to calm down. His cheeks skipped the cute rosy stage and went straight for burgundy, matching his sweater a little too well.

"I'm not."

"You are."

" _No_ , I'm really not."

" _Yes_ , you are. And stubborn too, clearly."

Cas didn't really notice when Dean moved, but suddenly he was in his arms, comforted, surrounded, held.

"I have no clue what's happened to you, but you gotta know I'd never hurt you" Dean murmured in his ear. "As long as I'm around, nothing bad is ever gonna happen to you again."

He sought out Dean with his mouth and trembled as their lips met, warmly familiar and sparkling new at the same time. They crashed against each other like waves on a shore, the beginnings and endings of their own two bodies disappearing until they were one. His kisses were harsh and desperate on Dean's soft mouth, and he almost failed to notice the tear which ran down his face, sneaking in between their lips. It was salty.

Dean pulled away and rested his forehead against Cas' as they panted, hot breaths mixing in the small space between their faces.

"Calm down, baby" he chuckled. "You alright?"

Cas nodded, swallowing. He felt Dean's jeans against his bare legs and tried to take a small step back without Dean noticing it, but Dean wouldn't let him, holding him close with one hand on the small of his back and one in his dark tousled hair.

"You know" he began. "I was nineteen when my dad kicked me out... Drunk as shit. Son of a bitch probably don't even remember it."

Cas conceded and held his arms tighter around Dean's waist, resting his chin on his shoulder. His scent filled Cas' lungs and Cas suddenly felt like burying his face in Dean's chest, but he restrained himself. If he angled his face a little to the left, the bridge of his nose would meet Dean's scruffy, chiseled jaw.

"Why did he do that?" Cas tried to restrain the sudden angry rant that wanted to spill out of him. He could feel how Dean shrugged his shoulders shortly around him, before he started to stroke one hand in circles on his back.

"After mom-... I don't know, we just... didn't get along very well..." He drew a deep, unsteady breath. "I always went back for Sam when dad was gone, though. Couldn't leave the kid alone. He wanted to stay in school, and dad was pouring all his money into the alcohol businesses, so I took any job I could find... Don't remember when I worked my first job." He peered his eyes up and pondered, pouting his lips. "But, you know, I always want Sammy to have a future."

It was both calming and comforting to hear Dean talk about his life. His eyes lit up like bonfires when he spoke of his little brother, and Cas loved that. He wanted to know everything about this green-eyed man who he had started to like more than he really dared.

"Where did you go?" Cas asked tentatively, picturing nineteen year old Dean living on the streets, sleeping under newspapers.

"This old friend of dad's, Bobby, he found me sleeping at the garage." He tightened his grip around Cas, but Cas didn't mind. "He gave me a job there, and one day he came up to me, handed me a key and was like _'I have a couch and a spare room. Help yourself to anything in the fridge. And don't let me hear you come.'_ and I just-..." Dean snorted, his firm chest rumbling with pent up chuckles.

"I'm glad" Cas said, and Dean leaned away slightly to look at him, still keeping his arms wrapped around his shoulders and his upper back. "I'm glad you weren't alone."

He grinned and pulled Cas closer again.

"Yeah, Bobby's awesome."

They were silent for a moment before Dean started to sway them both from side to side, slowly.

"What are you up to now, Dean?" Cas sighed, and he almost couldn't keep himself from laughing.

"You wanna dance?" he asked with a smile in his deep voice.

"There's no music" Cas contradicted.

Dean snorted.

"Don't worry 'bout it."

"I bet you're this romantic with all the girls" Cas teased, just a little serious.

Dean didn't answer. He merely began humming a guitar riff, and at first Cas couldn't tell which song it was. He murmured something for a moment, seeming unsure of the lyrics. " _...while we're talking... about all of the things that I long to believe, about love, the truth and what you mean to me... And the truth is... baby, you're all that I need..._ " he sang lowly in Cas' ear, with that lustful, gravelly voice of his, before he added some kind of drum sound. He was actually pretty good, and Cas hadn't really expected it.

"Bon Jovi" Cas whispered with a small smile, and Dean swiftly kissed his neck.

" _I want to lay you down on a bed of roses... For tonight I sleep on a bed of nails... I want to be just as close as the Holy Ghost is, and lay you down on a bed of roses..._ "

They swayed for a moment more and after a while Dean began moving his feet a little as well, pulling Cas along, side to side and around. The butterflies fluttered in his stomach as Dean twirled them round the room smoothly. Cas let him lead which resulted in them almost bumping into the couch once when Dean wasn't really paying attention to where he was going.

" _...and lay you down on a bed of roses..._ "

When there were no more words to be sung, Dean slowed them down, humming, until they were swaying in one place again.

"Hey, you wanna watch TV or something?" he asked suddenly, softly, and Cas nodded, happy that Dean helped him occupy his mind with things other than the events of the day.

"I should probably put some pants on" he thought out loud.

Dean kissed Cas' forehead before he let go of him and walked around the couch, crashing down on it with his back against the armrest and his left leg up. Cas hesitated for a second; Dean had spread himself out over all three seats, and he didn't quite know how to-...

"Why would you do that? Could take mine off instead, if you're uncomfortable" he said with a smirk. "C'mere!" He beckoned him closer with a wave of his hand, and Cas finally managed to move his numb legs on his own.

He settled himself on the couch, lying comfortably between Dean's strong, jeans-clad thighs, and turned on the TV with the remote on the coffee table. There was a movie showing and they only seemed to have missed about half of it, but it was alright because Cas had seen it before.

"Tristan and Isolde" he commented. "You like knights, fights and castles?" he asked keeping his eyes on the screen.

"Yeah, it's cool" Dean answered. "You cold?"

Cas assumed that he refered to his bare legs, and he meekly shook his head in reply.

"Not much."

A blanket hanged over the armrest behind Dean, and he leaned forward enough to pull it loose, unfold it and throw it over Cas. He smiled a little to himself by Dean's small gesture, and moved further up on Dean's stomach, his left hand under the side of his head and his right one on Dean's thigh.

"I got one, by the way" Dean said out of nowhere.

"One what?"

"A-... Something... Like, something deep..." He cleared his throat. " _'When you grow up, your heart dies'_..."

Cas was quiet for a second.

"Where's-"

"The Breakfast Club."

He nodded his head atop Dean's torso.

"Good one."

They watched the movie in silence for a moment - Cas listened to Dean's calm breaths more than he followed the story on the screen. Dean's chest heaved eavenly under him.

"Do you want me to be your knight in shining armor, Cas?" Dean suddenly asked, still focusing on the movie.

Cas glanced up at Dean, contemplating for a moment before he answered.

"No."

Dean finally looked away from the TV and locked eyes with Cas, frowning.

"I want you to be who you are, Dean, and your armor is rough and banged up from too much fighting and too many adventures." He turned his eyes back towards the film where James Franco's character Tristan had just glanced up at Isolde on the bleacher. "I mean, if a knight in shining armor came to rescue me, I'd probably be rescued by a pretty crappy knight." In the corner of his eye he could see Dean trying to contain a proud grin.

"But I'm still a knight... Right, Cas?" He sounded childishly happy, and Cas snorted, smiling to himself.

"Yes, Dean. You're a knight."

"Yours" he added, and Cas didn't answer immediately because he honestly didn't know what to say to that.

"If you really want this, then we should probably lay down some rules" he finally said, voice unsteady. He really wanted Dean to really want him.

"What, like, sexy rules?" Dean teased, an enticing thrill lurking in his voice.

Cas nudged at him.

"You know what I mean, Dean."

"Not today" he sighed, sliding further down into the couch with Cas on top of him. "We'll do rules tomorrow."

They kept watching the movie, and Cas started to feel quite comfortable with the situation; lying half naked between Dean's legs wasn't all that bad. He rested his head on Dean's torso and felt his heartbeats through the black tee under the red plaid shirt, smiling to himself. Dean sneaked his fingers into the holes in between the knitting of his sweater, touching skin.

"Hey, Cas?" Dean murmured after a while, moving a little under Cas.

"Mmh?" he hummed in reply, never letting his eyes leave the TV.

"I gotta visit the can, man."

"Oh, yeah, sure." Cas sat up quickly, folding his legs under him on the couch, and Dean stood up, stretching almost imperceptibly, glancing down at him. "It's in the bedroom and then the door to the right" he explained to Dean who nodded and moved off.

While Dean was gone, Cas sank down into the corner where he had sat, nestling in the warmth left by his body. Carefully he lowered the volume of the TV just enough to listen in on Dean, but not enough to make him suspicious. He heard the toilet flushing, water rushing, and then nothing. Silence. The barely audible murmur of the TV was deafening as he tried to hear something, anything. Soon enough the movie caught his focus again.

"Cas?" Dean said somewhere behind him.

"Mmh?" he answered vaguely.

Air went through the speakers, causing a deep popping sound behind him, claiming his attention a little more, beckoning him to turn slightly in his seat. A stern drum line accompanied a cocky guitar riff before a man howled.

" _Slow ride... Take it easy... Slow ride... Take it easy..._ "

Cas lost control over his face for a second. Dean stood leaning on the threshold to his bedroom, smirk on his face, tee and shirt missing, jeans hanging low on his hips, unbuttoned in a casual and enticing way. The room was bathed in darkness except for the Christmas lights in the fir tree and the lonely lamp in the kitchen. They cast a faint glow, making the locket around his neck shimmer, and illuminating Dean's naked, husky torso and broad shoulders and muscular arms and tanned, fit abs and defined hip bones and-

"Dean-? Wha- what are y-" Cas shook his head a little but couldn't find any appropriate words, and all of a sudden it got extremely hard to breathe and his mouth dried out.

"Found a mixtape" he said, pretending to be unfazed by Cas' lack of human speach. He seemed amused by the situation, or maybe by Cas' expression, or by the power he possessed, or something. "You hungry?" He strolled over to the kitchen, turned his back on Cas, and opened the fridge. His lower body was hidden behind the counter, and Cas couldn't help but pretend that he was completely naked, but soon Dean turned back to him and started fixing sandwiches on the countertop. He said something that Cas couldn't hear, but he sheepishly nodded in reply anyway.

" _I'm in the mood... The rhythm is right... Move to the music... We can roll all night... Oooh slow ride... Take it easy..._ "

Dean cleared his throat, suddenly standing in front of Cas who had trailed off in his thoughts. He noted that he sat in eye level with Dean's crotch just before he reminded himself to behave, blushed and raised his gaze to meet Dean's.

"Don't objectify me" Dean grunted accusingly, teasing, peering his eyes back at Cas with a smile playing on his soft, pouty lips. He placed the plate of sandwiches on the coffee table and flopped down next to Cas.

"I didn't-... Ehm..." he tried. He continuously swallowed the imaginary lump in his throat.

"Man, Cas, you're as smooth as crunchy peanut butter" Dean chuckled suddenly, taking a bite of a sandwich.

Cas snorted at himself. He really was a mess.

"Yeah, sorry. I just... spaced out a bit." He took a sandwich, pulling himself together. "Where did your shirt go?" he asked casually, intrigued by this new game of theirs.

"What?" Dean looked down at his own chest and gave out a baffled sound. "Son of a bitch" he spelled out with feigned shock on his handsome face. "You know, Cas, I haven't got a clue." He grinned at Cas with his mouth full of sandwich, earning a laugh and a frown in return before Cas pushed his face away with a disgusted moan.

"Chew with your mouth closed, Dean" he complained loudly. "I can't believe how gross you are."

"Oh you don't mind it, mister pantless" he grinned, taking another bite.

"Not to mention childish" Cas added between gulps.

"I think I'm adorable!"

Dean leaned back, finished his sandwich and threw his arms up on the back of the couch, content. His hand grazed at Cas' right shoulder, and Cas unconsciously leaned into the touch. His blue eyes suddenly started to explore all the visible corners of Dean without his permission, and because Dean was leaning back, his stomach had a few small rolls on the middle which looked so soft that Cas' fingers started to itch, wanting to touch and pinch and caress. He willed himself to keep his hands in his own lap.

"You can touch" Dean's deep voice murmured, suddenly so very serious and sultry.

Cas snapped out of his own head, shifting his eyes and locked on with those green orbs. He didn't have anything to answer, there were no more words in the world - they had all been used up.

Dean leaned in towards Cas and kissed him lightly, touching softly, then deeper. He coaxed Cas' lips apart and their tongues met, sending all kinds of thrilling, wonderful signals through their bodies, and Cas forgot to keep his hands in his own lap.

The air between them started to get humid, Cas' limbs were suddenly so very heavy, and everything was wet, tight, heat. Their skins scorched against each other, and Cas' briefs felt too small - it got even worse when Dean palmed his hand over the fabric between his legs. They could both feel how he pulsated under Dean's hand as he rubbed and stroked it, stiffening, throbbing, and after a while Dean slowly tried to wiggle down his briefs. Cas obliged in a slight, growing haze, by lifting his bottom just enough from the couch, and he moaned loudly when his dick wasn't restricted by the clothing anymore. Dean's clammy, slightly unsteady hand touched him, causing him to flutter his eyes shut, involuntarily break the kiss and drop his head back.

"Mmmh" he sighed just before Dean leaned forward and devoured his lips with his own again, sucking, nipping.

"This-..." Dean whispered with a rough, lusty voice against Cas' mouth, trying to say something he wasn't that good at saying. "Cas..." He began stroking Cas up and down in long, slow strokes, pulling moan after moan out of him. "I need this- I need you... How you go crazy for me..." It made Cas shiver, his sweater feeling itchy and in the way. "I just wanna-..."

"What?" he managed to breathe in reply, pulling on Dean's hair, clawing a little at his neck, down his shoulder and his upper back, trying never to part their wet lips.

Dean suddenly stopped, leaned an inch away and looked at Cas with sparkling green eyes. His smirk grew, showing off his white teeth, and when he winked his left eye, the left side of his upper lip kind of twitched up, in Dean's own unique way. That small gesture was enough to make Cas' cock twitch in Dean's hand.

Before Cas had pulled himself together from Dean's adorably sexy wink, Dean bent down over and closed his lips around Cas.

The TV kept showing _Tristan and Isolde_ , murmuring lowly to no one.


	9. Scattered stars

On their tightly intertwined, stumbling, clothes-shedding path to the bedroom, Dean had over and over again murmured against Cas' mouth, asking if he really wanted to. Between quick chaste kisses Dean really hadn't had to ask twice, and even though he didn't say it out loud, Cas knew exactly what the question was about. He had nodded in reply, breathed " _I do..._ " and pulled Dean with him, arms locked around his warm, strong neck. Ever since he was a little boy he had never wanted anything more than to be with another little boy, and after all this time he finally got to feel his skin getting clammy under the sweater, blood pounding loudly in his ears, hard in his chest and down between his legs, his arousal growing as he thought about how it was finally happening. This was by far the best Christmas gift he had ever recieved.

Now Dean slid two spitslick fingers slowly in and out of Cas' delicate, increasingly stretched hole, while he covered the trembling blue-eyed young man with his whole body, holding himself up with his left forearm on the mattress next to Cas' flushed face, licking, blowing and biting at his hardened nipples, sweater since long thrown onto the floor. Dean had never done this much for anyone; he was used to being the one spread out, worshiped and satisfied, not having it happen the other way around, so he was a little nervy and unpracticed. But he wanted to do it none the less, and his desire was fueled as Cas shivered from head to toe and braced himself on the mattress, squirming under Dean's unruly tongue and exploring, gentle fingers. Cas' eyes fluttered shut, completely uncapable to hold back moans which Cas himself had never even heard emitted from his own throat before. Dean insisted on prolonging the sweet torture, drawing it out of him in sync with the fingers inside of him.

"Dean" Cas breathed faintly through his teeth, barely aware that he had spoken. He blindly reached down between his own legs with his left hand and held at the base of his erection. Sparks and stars and fireworks blinded him behind his eyelids and shot out into his limbs, turning his glowing skin even more sensitive.

"No" was all Dean managed to say under his breath, the simple word stopping Cas from moving his hand up the shaft. He still held himself at the base, as he took Dean's dick in his other hand, just holding and feeling the size and the skin and the warmth and the throbbing for a moment before he stroked up, causing Dean to gasp and flutter his eyes shut for a second. His dick leaked a little, and Cas gently spread the precum out over the head with his thumb. He found the slick wetness to be such a turn on, and he cirkled the head of Dean's dick a few times more with his thumb, before he slowly stroked his hand down around the erection again and then back up, smoothly shifting from long and deep to fast and hard strokes.

Dean gave out a deep groan and swiftly pulled his two fingers out of Cas with a wet sound, leaving Cas feeling empty for a moment, and Cas peered his eyes open slightly as he jerked Dean off. He caught Dean raising his right hand to his mouth, putting three fingers between his own pouty lips, wetting them even more, and when he caught Cas staring he smirked and licked his fingers even slower, the sensuality in the sight almost being too much to bare.

"You sure?" Dean breathed for the hundredth time.

Cas let go of them both, leaving Dean's hard-on to rest against Cas' thigh, sticky and warm and arousing. He placed his hands on each side of Dean's scruffy face, beckoning him closer.

"Shut up."

Their lips met, wet and hot, and Cas hoped it was answer enough - judging from Dean's deep breath, wolfish smirk and his next move, it was. Even though he lay as close to Cas' side as he possibly could, he still tried to press himself even closer, and he slowly let three fingers push on into him. Cas closed his eyes again, relaxing as best as he could. When Dean's fingers were buried up to the knuckles, he tried to spread them a little inside, getting Cas nice and ready for him.

"Come on, Dean" Cas breathed right before Dean claimed his mouth anew, sucking at his lower lip, causing him to moan again. Cas could hear the pop when Dean opened a plastic tube and the slick sound when Dean smeared himself with lube. The anticipation was unbearable. He felt the shift in the mattress as Dean slowly lifted himself and moved over Cas' right leg, settling himself between his thighs, his erection straining against the sheet, barely poking at Cas' ass. He slowly pulled out his fingers and angled his hips, the head of his dick, slick with precum and glidant, sniffing at Cas' orifice. He placed his left hand behind Cas' right knee, pulling it up and pushing his legs further apart so that he could reach easier.

Complete. That's what Cas felt. Complete, safe, cherished, and when Dean carefully slid inside him, a gasp left his lips. At first he only entered with the head of his dick, stopping himself to look down at Cas.

"You okay?"

Cas nodded, biting his lip. Dean gasped as well when he finally slid all the way in and bottomed, pressing at Cas' prostate, coming to a halt when groins and hairs touched, and Cas tightened around him. Dean willed himself to keep still for a moment as his green, hooded eyes shone down at Cas with a new gleam, almost in awe, and Cas couldn't recall ever having seen someone so beautiful. He had never in his whole life experienced anything like this, but he recognized the spark shooting through him, and when Dean slowly pulled out only to thrust back in, harder, he knew it was love. Their eyes never broke their connection, and Cas got a wrinkle between his eyebrows as he tried to keep his eyes open, locked with Dean's, not rolling back into his head in pleasure. He wanted to see him - he wanted to etch that man into his hippocampus, entirely and permanently. He ran his hands up and down Dean's body, just to make sure he was real.

Dean began moving his hips, thrusting harder, deeper, faster, and the sound of naked, sweaty skin slapping on skin was almost as exhilarating and satisfying as the tight clench of Cas' ass around Dean. His hand grasped Cas' thigh with an audible spank, blunt nails digging into soft warmth, his right hand raking through Cas' dark hair, grabbing it, holding him. Soon it became too much and Dean had to let go in order to scrabble at the sheet, clutching it, almost ripping it apart under them. Cas' increasingly shaky knees pushed together at Dean's hips, and he fell into the merciless rhythm, moving with Dean as his hands clawed maps on his back. His eyes had squeezed themselves shut, his fingers slipped and searched everywhere over Dean's neck, shoulders, biceps, dying to touch his muscles playing under the skin, as Dean fucked faster into him. The hoarse grunts and ragged breaths he emitted over Cas egged him on even more, and he shuddered with each push, each ruthless thrust of Dean's hips, so close to the edge.

Cas panted and muffled cries by biting his lip, and Dean gritted strangled moans through his teeth until the stars and fireworks exploded in Cas and he trembled as they came together in waves so strong Cas thought they would pull him down to some dark place that he'd never want to leave. Dizziness lightened Cas' head and sent his ass stuttering, meeting Dean, matching their groans and hitched breaths. A hot flood of cum filled him and pressed on past Dean's dick, pouring out of him, trickling warm and inciting down his ass, probably staining the sheet, and Cas arched his back up from the mattress as a shivery moan left Dean's throat, their bodies rocking against each other with every spastic jerk of Dean's cock.

In a breathless moment Dean collapsed forward over a limp Cas, whom didn't mind letting him melt together with his own body, as one. He planted haphazard kisses everywhere on Cas before he rested his head on his shoulder, mumbling nonsense, their sweaty chests plastered together, Dean's slackening dick still inside.

"Cas..." His name from Dean's lips replaced a deep breath and became hot air over his aching and retracting nipples. He shivered, drew a deep trembling breath, meekly trying to recover from the orgasm.

As their breathing slowly subdued back to somewhat normal, they lay atop each other between Cas' scrunched up sheets, hot and clammy, stuck together, itching for cool air but too relaxed and content to get up and open a window. Dean had carefully pulled out and rolled over on his back, his hands under his head, his right bicep acting as the most fragrant pillow Cas had ever had. The moon and the street lights outside threw vague shadows in on the ceiling.

"That was..." Cas gave out a small, hot, shivering sound somewhere between a whimper and a groan, hoping it was enough to explain his first time and the divinity he had felt, since words fell short.

"Yeah" Dean said, trying to sound confident, snorting. Although Cas mostly thought he sounded surprised, in a good way, he hoped.

He drew circles around Dean's nipples and lines through the small hairs on his chest between them. They hardened and Dean groaned, took Cas' hand and held it still in his own. It made Cas grin shortly to himself before he realized something.

"Is this where you get up and walk out the door, never to return?" he asked with a whisper, watching their hands together on Dean's rising and sinking chest. Dean shifted his eyes to him and kissed his dark hair before he looked up at the pattern on the ceiling again.

"No."

"But what if you get sick of me?" Cas insisted nervously.

"You're too good to me" Dean replied simply.

"Huh?" Cas glanced up at him, almost too relaxed to move - his eyes nearly rolled back into his head as he did so, hurting a little. Dean kicked the cover off of his right leg and moved it slightly to the side to touch Cas' in a small gesture, showing some kind of affection that he held for him, or something - Cas wasn't really sure, but it felt nice, comforting.

"You're too good to me" he repeated.

" _You're_ good, Dean." He turned on his side, facing him completely. "Why won't you believe that you deserve good things to happen to you? I know you can't see it, but I can. And I see that you're trying." A sudden chuckle escaped his lips. "Of course you're also a bit messy and a bit ruined, but that's fine 'cause I am too."

Dean didn't answer. He merely kept looking up at the faint shadows with a stiff expression on his face, his mouth pressed in a sharp line, and Cas couldn't tell if he had heard him at all.

"When I touch here-..." Dean murmured without shifting his eyes. He pulled Cas in with his right arm, sneaking his hand down the warm, exposed skin of his upper back, tracing with his fingers. "I imagine where your wings would be, angel."

What had Dean just called him?

Being the awkward, inward person that Cas was, he didn't know how to respond. He pulled his shoulders up, almost rolling himself into a ball between Dean's arm and side. Maybe he could close his eyes and freeze this moment, never having to leave this night behind.

"And don't you dare say anything else, or I swear Cas, I'll tear your feathery ass a new one."

"I'm not saying anything" he replied quickly, surrendering immediately. "Even though I am a profoundly flawed human being" he added quietly.

"And I'm not the hottest pie in the bakery" Dean said ironically, conveying how ridiculous Cas was acting. One corner of his mouth curled up as he shifted his eyes down to meet Cas'. He rolled his blues at Dean whom chuckled, the sound rumbling in his chest under their hands, like thunder. The small laugh settled and faded until they looked at each other in silence. "So. You gonna tell me what the hell this is?" Dean suddenly murmured lowly. He drew his hand down and up Cas' naked back, touching all the pale red scars like tiny, elongated hills under his fingers, and Cas instinctively tried to pull away. "You're not going anywhere." Dean's arm turned to stone around his shoulders, forcing him to stay put, his chest pressed to Dean's ribs. "Who did this to you?"

Cas drew a deep breath, cleared his throat, rubbed at his eyes with the back of his right hand, scratched his nose, delayed. Dean nudged at him.

"My father" Cas heard himself say, settling his cheek on Dean's strong, warm shoulder. He could feel Dean tensing, growing somehow, his chest firm under their joined hands, his grip tightening around Cas; like an animal ruffling up his fur to scare off intruders. "Because of what I am."

"What- A human being?" Dean joked half-heartedly, no trace of amusement nor teasing in his voice. Cas tried to smile but it didn't feel genuine, and he was glad Dean couldn't see his face.

"I can't count the times I have apologized for who I am or how I feel." He tried to blink the sudden tiredness out of his eyes. "All that seem to matter is the preservation of the old-school family unit."

"But you reported him... right?"

"What's the point?" he said honestly. "This town is run by the church, and my father practically  _is_ the church."

Dean rolled over on his side and squeezed him closer, chests pressed tightly together, Deans right arm still under Cas' head, and his left holding him close at the small of his back. He snuck his legs in between and around Cas', locking him in place.

"If I'd fuckin' been there, I woulda fuckin' been throwing punches" he almost hissed, gritting his teeth. His voice rumbled, like a low, murmuring roar. Cas soaked it up greedily - he wasn't used to being cared for like that, and he suddenly felt so very warm.

"You swear too much" he commented in the middle of it all.

"Gotta make up for you- You don't swear enough."

"I don't swear at all."

Dean was silent for a moment.

"Say... 'fuck..." he incited.

"No."

"Yes- C'mon! Say 'shit freckin' piss shit'!" He seemed to suggest every swearword he could think of, which didn't seem to be all that many.

"Nope. Not going to happen."

Dean drew a deep breath and exhaled audibly.

"Please?"

"No. Though I have said 'crap' from time to time." That had to count for something. But Dean grunted, unpleased. "I hate this small town-" Cas said, changing the subject. "-full of small-minded people who suffocate everything with their emptiness and their spiteful comments about the way someone looks and acts and just-... everything" he muttered, trailing off and yawning, before he awkwardly sneaked his left arm in under Dean's armpit, and Dean helped by raising his torso slightly from the bed. Cas felt the empty space behind Dean's back, and it was like a soothing vent. They tangled their bodies together; four legs and four arms everywhere on and around them like a ball of yarn, forehead to forehead. "But I don't hate you... Dean." He couldn't help but smile, his mouth a mere few centimeters from Dean's lips.

"I don't hate you too" Dean whispered back. It was too dark to see, but Cas thought he could hear that Dean had a smile in his voice as well.

 

Cas woke up suddenly. It was still dark and something felt wrong. He raked his hand over the bedside next to him and found it to be empty. For a second he had a feeling that it shouldn't be, that someone ought to be there, and then he remembered Dean. He wasn't sure if it had been real or just one of his dreams, but the mattress next to him wasn't cold enough for it to have been a dream, and he still felt sore.

"Dean?" he said faintly, just before he asked himself why he was whispering. He had pulled on new briefs earlier after he had cleaned up, before they had fallen asleep together. Now he also clothed himself in the burgundy sweater, and stumbled out of the bedroom, roaming around slowly, peering his tired eyes through the dark, rubbing at them.

The green-eyed man slouched, huddled on the floor in front of the couch, arms straight down, stiff, fingertips like sharp claws clinging to the rug for dear life. He stared out through the windows, and the unfamiliar inanimation frightened Cas a little, but he decided to shake it off. He kneeled down infront of Dean, between his legs, and Dean's eyes shifted down. Cas hesitated for a second before he tentatively took Dean's face in his hands and forced him to look up.

"Dean, what's wrong?" He kept trying to make Dean look at him but he was in too deep in his own head, too sunken in thoughts to take his eyes off of the interesting pattern that he had just discovered in the lines and knots of the expensive wooden floor that shot out from under the rug. "Come here..." Cas pulled his stiff form into his warm arms, smoothing his dark-blond hair back with one hand. "Are you sad?"

Dean didn't resist the embrace, but it took a while before he allowed himself to completely fall into Cas' arms and raise his own to place them around his torso, tugging at him to get closer, hands turned into fists, his forehead resting against Cas' chest. Cas started to get a little worried when Dean didn't answer, but keeping him pressed tightly against him somehow made it feel slightly less awful. He was there. They were together.

"Let me kiss the sad out of you." Cas leaned back slightly, sank down some more on his heels and placed feathery kisses on Dean's nose and his eyelids, on his cheekbones and the wrinkle between his brows, on the scruffy jaw and on the stars scattered across the bridge of his nose. He finally stopped, his lips trying to soften the harsh line that was his mouth, until Dean finally gave in and let Cas' tongue meet his own.

"I'm fine" Dean murmured when they broke the kiss, voice distant.

"Come back to bed" Cas begged, and Dean nodded distantly before he stood up and let Cas lead him back.

Just as he had tucked Dean back in under the duvet, with his mind set on asking him about the incident some other time, probably the very next morning, a knock on the door claimed his attention. The sound filled the dark, quiet apartment, sounding louder than it probably was, and Cas hurried as silently as possible to open the door.

He stepped aside and let Meg in without a word - he wasn't sure whether to frown in confusion, or sigh and roll his eyes.

"Meg" he began, whispering, as she kicked her shoes off and threw her jacket onto the kitchen counter. She dropped her worn-out duffel bag and jumped over the back of the couch, lying down on it. All the noises she made caused Cas to flinch and throw nervous glances towards the pitch black bedroom, but Dean didn't seem to wake from it.

"Well well, look at that flushed face, Clarence. You've got a flustered caveman sort of oozy musk about you. Is your boyfriend here still?"

"What are you doing here?" he hissed, moving closer to her so that he would be able to speak even lower - he was really on edge.

"I like what you've done with the place. Moved the couch 'n' all." She picked up the neglected blanket from the floor - right where Dean had huddled just minuts earlier - and threw it over herself, sliding down a little more, settling against the armrest.

He was just about to mention something about the fact that she probably should have noticed the couch when she had been there earlier, but then he remembered her bloodshot, dead-looking eyes, and he figured she must have been too drugged to be bothered with furniture. Instead he sighed and walked around so that he could look at her as he questioned her, but she didn't give him a chance to even start.

"Your _lovely_ mother sort of called Cecil and had him fire me" she said blandly, as if it was nothing, her lips pouting as she spoke. She shook the dark curls away from her face and tried to rub the sleep out of her eyes with her left hand.

"Well what did you expect? You threatened her." Now he couldn't stop himself from rolling his eyes.

"Hey, what they did to you-..." she exclaimed lowly, sitting up. She interrupted herself before she let her emotions carry away with her. "I'm just saying, if I could go back, I'd do the same." She scooched down in her seat again. "And since I'm old enough, and since I couldn't keep the job, Cecil also had to throw me out." She messed about with her feet until she finally managed to fold the blanket around them. "But I was leaving that dump anyway so..." she said, shrugging a shoulder, as if she really couldn't care less. Cas didn't buy her nonchalance, but he didn't say anything about it.

"So you just assumed I'd let you live here?" He furrowed his brows and crossed his arms in front of his chest. She raised a brow in return.

"Don't be stupid. I'm only crashing here temporarily." She must have noticed his constant, fleeting glances towards the bedroom. "And don't worry, I'll be gone before loverboy wakes up." Then she turned on her side, away from Cas, and pulled the blanket up to her chin.

Cas snorted before he anxiously and slowly scuffed back to the bedroom, pulling off his sweater again before he slipped under the duvet, nestling up next to Dean.

 

* * *

 

 

The dimmed morning light peered in between the splits in the blinds, softly beckoning Cas to open his eyes. He smiled at the sight and drew his hand down Dean's naked back, watching his strong arms curled in under his pillow, and the back of his dark-blond scruff. Suddenly he remembered Meg and sat up, throwing his legs off the side of the bed. He snatched a shirt from the bedpost and pulled it on, buttoning it as he peeked out into the livingroom. It was empty. He sighed with relief.

The clock on the wall by the Christmas tree showed ten forty-five. A decent time for a Sunday brunch, he thought as he picked a record, slid it out of the paper-case, and placed it on the turntable. For a second he considered cooking in silence since Dean was still sleeping, but the clock really was too much for anyone to still be in bed - still be in bed _asleep_ , anyway. So he lowered the needle and shivered fondly at the crackle. Then he walked over to the kitchen and began plucking things out of the refrigerator. Butter, honey, cheese, vegetables. Coffee - on. Stove - on. Eggs - in the frying pan. Bread - in the toaster. This was the first good Sunday he had ever had; more often than not, it wasn't a real Sunday until he had wasted the whole day and then felt depressed at eight in the evening. Now he was wasting the day happily.

" _There she was just walkin' down the street. Singin' do wah diddy, diddy dum diddy do! Snappin' her fingers and shufflin' her feet. Singin' do wah diddy, diddy dum diddy do!_ "

Cas hummed along, slowly moving his hips from side to side by the stove. He still felt a little sore, smiled as he thought about the previous night, and scooched up a half-done, simmering egg with the blue plastic spatula, meaning to flip it over in the frying pan.

"Nice shirt" Dean's voice rumbled behind him, causing him to jump and turn around, the egg quickly trickling from the spatula to the hard wooden floor.

"Dean" he sighed, scowling down at the remains of the egg by his feet. Then he heard what Dean had just said and shifted his eyes, noticing it was Dean's plaid shirt he was wearing.

"Sorry" Dean said, chuckling. He walked around the counter, snatched a few sheets of paper off the paper-roll, and dropped to his knees at Cas' side to wipe up the mess. For a moment Cas felt heat spread over his skin as Dean unknowingly breathed by his bare thighs, causing the hairs on his legs to rise. But then Dean stood up and threw the egg-soaked paper in the trash-can in the cupboard under the sink, and Cas forced himself to calm down. He noted that Dean was standing closer than necessary, his bare chest and hard nipples grazing the rough fabric of his own shirt on Cas' body.

"I- I'm-... making brunch" Cas explained, absent-mindedly.

"Good. I'm hungry." Dean stepped closer, his chest firmly against Cas' back as he slid his arms around his waist, his hands sneaking in under the shirt at the front. He traced his nose up and down the nape of Cas' neck, and Cas almost dropped another egg.

"Dean-... Brunch..." he breathed. He had closed his eyes without noticing and the spatula had stopped moving around in the pan.

"I want my dessert" Dean murmured, nipping at his earlobe.

"You- you can't just have desserts. You need food too" Cas whispered and leaned back into the touch. He turned his head to the right and met Dean's nose with his cheek.

"Sugar is the most important thing in life. All the rest is just to stay alive" Dean replied, voice husky.

"Huh?"

"Heard it in a movie." Dean slowly began unbuttoning the shirt, and Cas dropped the spatula. He knew that there was no turning back now.

" _A-we're so happy and that's how we're gonna stay. Singin' do wah diddy, diddy dum diddy do_..."


	10. Frustrating conditions

She blinked her eyes open slightly and tried to focus on something, anything, but her vision was blurry and the room was dark and cold and dusty, except for a lonely light somewhere far above her head. A bass drum pounded mercilessly, vibrating in her skull and her mouth felt completely dried out. She tried to move but her arms were strapped tightly in place at her sides.

"Are you fucking kidding me" she groaned in annoyance to no one. She felt sore and bruised, as if she had been beaten and kicked, but she could recall having lived through worse. Although, she couldn't really remember what had happened this time.

A dark shadow moved in her peripheral vision, and she raised her stinging eyes towards it. An all too familiar bearded man in a black suit stood in front of her, watching her with narrow eyes, standing straddle-legged, hands in the pockets of his suit pants, casually. Their dark eyes met and Meg felt unusually uncomfortable.

"Good. You're awake" he confirmed in a monotone, gravelly voice with a tiny hint of what was left of some old-english accent.

"Crowley" she gritted between her teeth.

"And you remember me. Splendid. Then this will all go so much smoother." He threw one leg in front of the other as he offhandedly made his way to an operating table in sterile steel, covered in various sharp instruments. Meg couldn't really see them from where she was tied up - she only saw their shine in the fluorescent lights. He picked up a tool, twirled it between his fingers and inspected it before he put it down again and picked up another. "Where's my money, Meg?" he asked warningly.

"You know- I'm not quite sure" she replied blandly with a content smirk and a raised eyebrow, tilting her head to the side.

He picked up something from the table and approached her, face stern. When he stopped right by her and raised his arm, she saw the knife which he held casually in his hand, just before he placed it against her throat and forced her head up.

"I'll take that as an invitation to do this the fun way, before I send you off to retrieve my money." He suddenly lowered and slashed the knife across her bare left upper arm, causing her to scream in surprise and pain. Seconds later, something warm started trickling down her skin. Before she could pull herself together from the shock, he slashed another cut straight down the first one, creating an uneaven 'X' in the flesh. She screamed again, twisting in her seat, as he slowly pulled loose and folded away the flaps of skin, fascination shining in his eyes. The warm stream down her arm increased, and drops fell from her fingers into the unknown - probably just landing on the dirty floor.

The cool air in the room touched the open wound on her arm and scoarched it. She clenched her jaw and muffled her screams as best she could. Crowley smiled a small, content smile, leaned closer, and pressed the knife against her lower lip until blood pushed through and ran down her chin, staining the knife edge.

"So. My money?" he repeated, keeping the knife pressed into the flesh of her lips.

She knew she probably shouldn't say what she did, but she couldn't help herself. And besides, he was probably going to continue this little game of his for a while anyway. She would never let her fear show.

"I was gonna get them, but then I just carried on with my life instead." Her voice was a bit fainter from the panting and the dizziness, but still defiant. He didn't like it - she saw it in his eyes, and she had expected it.

She caught sight of two shadows moving behind Crowley, drawing near. Footsteps echoed in the room. Crowley raised one hand over his shoulder, probably to tell the two to wait, because the sound of their shoes against the hard concrete floor lessened, except for some gravel under their soles.

Another surprised breath left her lungs empty, as a sharp, burning pain shot out into her body from her hip, and she figured he must have stabbed the knife into her. He wiggled and twisted it around, and her eyes drooped shut, before she heard the footsteps drawing closer again.

 

* * *

 

 

It was the easiest thing in the world, falling in love with Dean. Most of the time anyway. Cas barely noticed it creeping into his home and his heart; one day it was just there, the love and he and their connection, and Cas neither wanted nor could fight it off. It always felt too good to be true, and Cas went along with it without refusing the slightest. He knew that he was a sucker for romance, and a complete fool for wanting to be Dean's lover no matter what - he sometimes found himself thinking that he would one day be forced to piece together this dream of a life with the reality he actually lived in, but he always brushed it off as a headache for another rainy day. Besides, he was nearly sure that Dean loved him too - he might not have known it himself and he might not have said the words out loud, but Cas could feel it in the small things, like when Dean grabbed himself something to drink, he unconsciously filled one up for Cas as well. Or when Cas awoke at night, eyes full of grit, finding that Dean clinged to him in a way he would never do when he was awake. And Dean's hoarse voice would mumble "I need you" in his sleep, and Cas would brush circles with his thumbs on Dean's face, as gently as he could muster.

On the other hand, Dean could really scare him half to death. Some nights, when Dean was unable to come over, Cas would lie alone in the dark and listen to the silence and the emptiness, wondering if he was making a mistake. Although, he always tried to will himself to fall asleep before those thoughts could spiral out of his control. Worst was the hiding and pretending and secrecy of it all, and Dean's obsession with putting on an act for everyone in the world outside of Cas' apartment, was driving him mad. Even though Cas had agreed that it was for the best, he was constantly itching to walk up to Dean wherever he saw him and kiss him, or straddle the leather seat behind him on his motorcycle, wrap his arms around his waist and ride off with his face sheltered at the nape of Dean's neck - just so that everyone would know that he was his. Once or twice he even daydreamed of going down to Dean at the garage with a lunchbox or something, like a real mid twentieth century housewife, or as he would have had it; husband. But Cas reluctantly settled for smaller everyday things like standing behind him in the school's cafeteria cue as well as admiring him from a distance - he had started to get pretty good at watching Dean in the corner of his eye, without anyone noticing. No matter how bad it got or how much it hurt or how many girls Dean flirted with, Cas always reminded himself that they would be sharing secrets in his bed soon enough; he found ways to love Dean, and he found ways to forget the things that Dean did to convince the world.

Simple as that, Cas tricked himself into calming down, at least temporarily - he didn't want to evoke anything that could cause Dean to leave for good, so when Dean came home to him in the late evenings after work, he would make himself forget the troubles of the day, and instead show his gratitude and love with kisses and touches. Dean would sneak in through his door and find him curled up on the couch, reading glasses on the bridge of his nose, his school books or favourite paper with crossword-puzzles in his lap, a record crackling on the turntable. He would chuckle and make fun of Cas in a loving way, telling him he only needed a few cats and a basket of knitting projects, and then he'd be a full-blown old lady. And Cas would throw his books and papers away, beckon Dean to get closer, pulling him in by grasping his shirt collar, hoarsely and provocatively murmuring that Dean would be the one who'd be full-blown. He was strangely intrigued by the thought that Dean probably hadn't guessed him to be the kind of guy who’d like it rough. If so, Dean couldn't have been more wrong.

Weeks passed and soon it was Dean's birthday. The two of them hung out all day, until day blended into night. They ate a blueberry cake with forks straight out of the carton, which Cas had ordered specially for the occasion. They cuddled and goofed around on the couch, and Dean taught Cas how to play a few video games which Dean had brought with him.

"When you kill Dean Winchester, it don't make him dead - it makes him angry" Dean said with childish excitement and a thrilling warning in his voice, focusing solemnly on the screen and his handcontrol. Cas laughed.

"Oh no, you! I've got this!" He waved the control around in his hands, jerking from side to side as if the control had a life of its own, and he pressed everything and anything, pretending to at least have the faintest idea what he was doing, completely ignoring the fact that his character moved around like an idiot on the TV screen. Peering his eyes and biting his tongue, he tried to aim his cyberspace-weapon at one of the bad guys.

He must have pressed the right button or something, because suddenly the figure he had been aiming at, fell to the ground in an impossibly huge pool of fluids which, he figured, was supposed to be blood. Cas stopped for a moment and stared at his kill on the screen. He had done it. He had really done it.

"W- was that it? Did I do it right?" he asked, keeping the control still in his hands.

"Yeah, you did good, Cas!" Dean's deep voice chuckled with approval. He patted Cas' left shoulder a few times before he just rested it there, squeezing slightly. When he finally let go to resume his game, Cas' shoulder, where his palm had just been, felt empty.

He decided that it was time to leave the video games to Dean; one kill was enough for Cas. Instead he leaned back in the corner of the couch, picked up the carton with the cake, and took another delicious bite with his fork. He felt calm, at ease, as always when they were simply hanging out like a normal couple - of course none of them had ever put that label on their bond verbally.

"You want some more?" he asked and reached the fork with a blue chunk towards Dean's face. He didn't get a reaction, which led him to the conclusion that Dean hadn't heard him. "If not, I need to put it in the fridge."

"I've gotta be going soon" Dean replied, still playing the game.

"It's starting to melt" Cas continued, stretching his arm to bring the fork even closer to Dean's mouth.

"They'll wonder where I am" Dean said, continuously talking past Cas. "Those sons of bitches can't even start a party by themselves." Cas felt Dean slipping away, or maybe it was Cas himself who was slipping this time.

"Dean-" He finally got his attention; Dean even paused the game and put down the control on the table. "Do you have to?" he asked gingerly.

Dean looked at him and then at the fork which was still hanging in the air, stretched out towards him, attached to Cas' hand and arm and shoulder and neck, and as Dean traced these parts with his eyes, Cas could feel it like a slithering tingle. Suddenly Dean started leaning forward, slowly, and Cas thought he was going to kiss him, but Dean quickly snatched the piece of cake off of the fork instead, grinning as he chewed.

"Dean" Cas complained, rolling his eyes away; Dean knew full well that Cas didn't like it when he chewed with his mouth open. "Dean, stop it" he admonished, and after a moment of amused teasing, Dean obeyed, swallowing. When Cas looked at him again, unwilling to yield, his smile faded.

"You know I have to" he said simply, rising from his seat. He walked over to the door and pulled on his jacket, slipping into his shoes. "Don't I get a goodbye-kiss?" He threw his arms out as if to catch Cas when he'd come running, and he flashed him a smirk. But Cas was too downhearted to respond - it wasn't that easy to keep his thoughts from showing on his face every time.

When he didn't move from his corner on the couch, Dean sighed and rubbed at his eyes.

"Hell- Cas- You know I need to do this. Keep up the act of a red-blooded, skirt-chasin', all American, sexgod." He smirked suddenly, proud of himself. "Though, that last thing is actually true."

"What are you waiting for then?" Cas snapped. "Go out and _chase skirts_ and drink 'til you forget all about me! That's all you ever seem to want anyway." The carton had started to shake in his grasp, so he dropped it on the floor and sat on his telling hands.

"Dammit, Cas- I thought we were on the same page about this!" Dean retorted. His tongue was sharper than usual, and his smirk shifted into a frown. "They can't know because I'd get in trouble, and if someone would hurt Sammy or Jess... or you, I don't know what I'd-..." He clenched his jaw. "And who knows what your family-..." he kept babbling, scowling, repeating what they both already knew. "And- You know they don't mean anything to me. The girls."

Cas drew a sharp breath, curling himself into a ball, his arms around his knees. All his sharp thorns pointed out as a defence. He didn't want his patience and self-control to run out, at least not on this night, not yet, and not right before they were going to part. But he suddenly had a really hard time holding it in.

"So sex is that superficial to you?"

"No, Cas- I didn't say-... I mean-..." Dean groaned loudly in frustration, and raked both his hands back through his hair. "You freckin' know what I mean!"

"No, Dean, I really don't!" Cas jumped up on his knees and faced him. "As far as everyone knows, you're still with Lisa Braeden! You're not even single! But just go ahead, you! Go out with your friends and get wasted and sleep around with all the girls! What do I care!"

Dean zipped his jacket violently and yanked the door open. He didn't seem interested in fighting about this right now.

"Maybe I will!"

"Good!"

"See ya, Cas!"

"Happy birthday, Dean!"

The door slammed shut and the apartment fell into total silence.

He didn't really know how long he sat there on the couch - all he really had to go on was how numb his legs felt when he finally stood up. He looked down at the half-eaten blueberry cake in the box by his feet. All of a sudden he got an incredibly strong urge to jump on it, screaming and crying, but it was as if the rest of him was numb as well. Paralyzed. Maybe he just didn't want to clean up the mess afterwards. At least, that was what he told himself.

He left the cake on the floor and went to bed.

It was Saturday. Half past nine in the evening, and he didn't feel like being conscious anymore.

Every now and again when he woke up, he checked his phone for messages, but his inbox remained empty - a few times he woke up crying, but that wasn't something he'd like to admit. Other than facing the rejection from his silent phone, he didn't feel like there was anything worth getting out of bed for, so he constantly willed himself to fall asleep again. That is, until Monday came around, and he had no other choice but to get up for school. He dragged himself out of bed, into the shower, and then down to the car in the garage. He drove to school without paying much attention to other drivers. He did everything he had to do, but he was extremely reluctant to all of it.

The weeks carried on. One day, his new Meg, Hannah, leaned against the locker next to him while her soft gaze, framed by the brown bangs, silently followed other students as they walked by them, carrying on down the halls. She had obviously learned not to annoy him too much, which was a huge difference compared to Meg - an improvement even. Although, somewhere inside he kind of missed Meg's irritated groans and intense intrusiveness. He understood that Hannah just wanted to be nice and respectful, and he usually would have appreciated it immensely. But something had changed within him, and now it was as if school-stuff were going back to normal around him; he might as well have been completely alone again, with the exception that he didn't feel at ease being friendless anymore.

He offhandedly rummaged through his locker, books and papers mixing - a few even fell out, landing by his shoes. He sighed as he stared down at them for a moment, wishing they would just jump back up into his hands by themselves. But of course that didn't happen, so he dropped to his knees. One of the papers held the school's mandatory information about their intolerance to bullying, racism, sexism and all other forms of harassment, which Cas had been given by some teacher on his first day in December. He snorted at the black words on the white sheet. When he had first received it, he had simply stuffed it in his locker and forgotten all about it. Not that he didn't believe harassment to be a severe subject, he really did; he had first-hand experience in that department. But he was born and bred in this town, and he knew how bad the schools were at actually acting against such things.

Cas slammed his locker door shut and began walking towards pathology class. He could feel Hannah following him silently. Only a few more months and then he would be done with this place - he had actually started to look forward to studying from home, strangely enough.

His solitary train of thought was interrupted as his teacher Balthazar came up to him, joining him and Hannah on their way to class. Baz smiled politely and seemed to talk about something, but Cas didn't really hear what it was he went on about. He didn't know if Hannah understood that he wanted to be left alone, or not, but at least she kept Baz busy answering him instead of Cas.

They passed by the cafeteria, and something ripped apart in Cas' chest. Dean... Dean was leaning against the ajar glass door, talking to that lunch lady Trish. Cas hadn't spoken to Dean since his birthday, and now their eyes met across the hall for a brief second, longing, yearning sparking between them, and something _ripped apart_ in him. He wanted to turn and walk up to Dean, make sure that they were okay, more than ever before. But he knew Dean didn't appreciate any show of affection in public, so he continued moving his legs, which suddenly felt like they were glued stiff by toffee in his joints. His trashed heart turned to stone and his eyes burned in their sockets.

Pathology and microbiology were the only two classes left before he got to go home and hide in his bed, and they both hauled forward slowly. Cas thought he was going to die; he couldn't remember any diseases or conduct a single theoretical evaluation of different patients' medical histories and physical examinations. It all went in through one ear and out the other.

"Next week we'll resume last year's face-to-face evaluations" professor Zachariah declared at the end of the last class, authoritarian. "This part of the course is of utmost importance, so be on time. We depart to the hospital thirty minutes early next Monday. Be sure to bring your notebooks."

When Cas had packed up all his notes inside his books and dropped them into his bag, he dragged himself down the stairs, out to his car, and drove home just as offhandedly as he had driven to school. He crashed on his bed and let his eyelids fall once again.

He repeated this everyday - he wasn't sure for how long. It felt like he was on pause, standby mode. Dean didn't have lunch at the school anymore, or maybe he just avoided Cas' lunch time. He wasn't sure of that either. What he was sure of was that he didn't dare to text him; he didn't want to be weak, and he didn't want to risk making anything worse. So he just left it alone, waiting for Dean to make contact. He kept on going to school, kept reading, got a plant and kept watering it to death, kept himself busy. Tears managed to push through from behind his eyes once when he accidentally poured too much milk into his coffee, making the colour of the bitter liquid pass by and lighten up too much to resemble the exact brown shade of Dean's leather jacket.

One crude Thursday in March, a figure huddled on the cold stone steps outside of Cas' door when he walked up the satirwell. He was so surprised that he stopped and stared for a moment, his heart beginning to race.

"Dean?" he murmured, unsure what to make of this.

The young man turned his face up and gave him a tired half-smile. Cas' heart skipped a beat, and his breath hitched in his throat.

"Hey, Cas."

Cas dropped his bag on the step next to him, and Dean grabbed the grey railing, hurled himself up and caught it before it slipped down the stairs. When he straightened his back and threw the bag over his shoulder, they found themselves to be standing on the same step, closer together than what would be deemed as suitable. He wasn't sure whether to throw his arms around him, cry, kiss him, blandly ask what he wanted or slap him. Either way, he couldn't seem to move his arms.

"Dean" he mouthed under his breath.

"Yeah..." Dean snorted, answering some unspoken question, and it was as if a wall came tumbling down between them. Dean pulled him in by his coat, and Cas snuck his hands in under Dean's jacket, feeling the warmth and the cologne and the coriander and the small dusts from the whiskey stains on his shirt and the scruffy chin against his own, and God, how he had missed him.

His chapped lips were suddenly filled with life again as they crushed against Dean's soft mouth for the first time in weeks, and it was better than he ever could have remembered it. Their tongues danced, and he bit and sucked at his lower lip, chests pressed tightly together, and Dean mumbled "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, oh fuck, Cas, I'm so sorry" in between, as he clutched the shirt under Cas' coat, and Cas locked his hands at the small of Dean's back. He pulled Cas with him up the last few steps and pressed him against the door as they panted, breathing as one. Tears began trickling down Cas' cheeks, and he didn't care if Dean wanted to pin his hands tightly at the small of his back as he took him from behind, or make him gag as he fucked into his mouth - Cas was up for it. He just wanted him, and he wanted to know that they were the same, that they were okay and that Dean still needed him, and he wanted to feel it. But Dean suddenly held him still, and when he leaned back against the wooden door, catching his breath, he saw that Dean's cheeks were wet as well, eyes bloodshot.

"What-... Dean, what's wrong?" he asked quietly, as if he wasn't bawling his eyes out too. They touched foreheads, and he looked up at Dean, waiting for him to explain - he hadn't seen him this broken since the first and only time he had talked about his mother.

"My dad-... died."


	11. Saying I love you

Cas' keys rattled in his shakey hands as he unlocked the door, leading Dean into his apartment, sitting him down on the couch. He felt so uneasy and he couldn't figure out why. This was it. This was what he had been waiting for these past weeks. This was what he had been walking around like a damn zombie for, paralyzed, dorment. All pending for Dean to reach out to him, to make contact, to come back. He wanted to be angry at him, furious, for keeping him on a leash - it felt like he should be, even though he wasn't the angry type. Besides, he couldn't really yell at Dean when he had just lost his father. So all Cas felt now was a new kind of paralyzed, crippled. Should he sit down right next to Dean, or leave some space between them? Should he bring him a cup of coffee, or maybe he wanted something stronger? Should he kiss him again like out in the stairwell, or was that just Dean being confused? Was the wall back up between them, or was it just all in Cas' head? He didn't have a clue so he just stood there, awkwardly, nearby Dean on the couch. At least Dean had stopped crying, but Cas wasn't sure if it was such a good sign that he just sat there with a face as hard and cold and ghostly as the night he had found him in almost that same spot. It reminded him that he still hadn't asked Dean about that. Maybe he could try to later, gently - now didn't seem like the time. Dean interrupted his thoughts.

"You're allowed to sit down, you know" his deep, familiar timbre roared like a furious wind over a dark sea, but lower, quieter, less full of life.

Cas sat down as if on command, tapping his fingers on his thighs, biting and wetting his lips repeatedly. Now what? What in the name of God was he supposed to do or say, exactly? He picked up the remote and turned on the TV in hopes that some blurry sounds would help him calm down, but other than that he didn't care for what was on. His focus was on Dean next to him, even if he didn't look straight at him. He was really there again - Cas could hardly believe it. He swore to himself that he'd never do anything that stupid again.

_If you take me back, I vow to take you as you are. I won't push you and I won't change you. I'll take anything you'll be willing to give me. I love you._

"If I got superpowers I'd probably end up as the villain, an' not the superhero" Dean said out of the blue, his eyes fixed on Batman on the screen.

"That's not true."

They were quiet for a moment more before their eyes met, and Cas suddenly couldn't keep away any longer. It had been weeks since he had seen him, and now he needed the touch, needed to feel Dean - needed Dean to feel him, as if immediate skin on skin was the only way to show him, make him understand that he was there and that he wanted him in any way he'd let him. Cas nestled up next to the strong, warm man at the same time as Dean lifted his arm and beckoned him closer, and when Dean lowered his arm again, pulling Cas in, Cas almost ended up in his lap.

"I'm sorry... Cas... I'm sorry I'm late. I just-... I had to go MIA for a while, and-" Dean suddenly sounded so regretful and vulnerable.

Cas hushed and locked his arms tighter around Dean's neck, sheltering Dean's face at his own throat, and Dean's shoulders began to shake, shuddering vaguely, like tiny waves continuing into Cas. Silent cries.

"It will be okay, Dean" he hushed and cooed, raking his fingers into Dean's hair, and Dean squeezed his arms tighter around his waist in some form of reply. A small, quiet " _thank you_ ".

"At least he left me Baby" he murmured against Cas' shirt, snorting as if to lighten the mood, cheer himself up. It didn't feel real, which was understandable."I mean- the car."

"He did?" Cas tried not to sound too happy or too excited, always worried that Dean would be scared off again, like a frightened deer at the side of the road.

"Yeah" he breathed, sounding a bit more hopeful. He loosened his grip around Cas slightly, and leaned back to look at him. His eyes were still red - even the skin under and at the sides of his eyes looked achingly red, almost purple. But Cas tried to exclude that fact. He was beautiful. "I actually planned on taking her for a trip somewhere someday... I'd hoped you'd wanna come with me... Somewhere no one knows us."

Cas' heart pounded violently in his chest as he nodded with a shy smile, and Dean pulled him close again, hiding his face at Cas' neck anew.

"Are you hungry?" he dared to ask, nervously, voice trembling slightly. He wanted to care for Dean, love him and help him.

Dean shook his head vaguely.

"I'm tired."

"Okay..." Cas swallowed. "Then... we can just go to bed... I mean- If you want to stay...?"

When Dean nodded, brushing his scruff against him, Cas sighed with relief.

It had been a while, but not long enough for Cas to not recognize the warm, comforting feeling of crawling into bed with Dean. Although, Dean seemed a little more mechanic; pulling off his clothes, sitting on the endge, laying down, raising his right arm to invite Cas in, beckon him closer. He smiled to himself when he saw the chain with his locket resting around Dean's neck.

"Do you want to talk about it? Your dad-...?" Cas asked gently, almost whispering through the dark. He carefully placed his right hand on Dean's bare chest - he wasn't a hundred percent sure what was and what wasn't okay to do.

"No."

They didn't say anything more about it - not anything more at all actually, because Cas didn't know how to handle the situation, and before anything else, he had fallen asleep. He slept better than he had done in weeks, and when he awoke, a wave of shock went through him before he remembered. It was so unreal waking up on Dean's arm again. Seeing the light dance on his features, the tousled dark-blond hair, the tiny crinkles at the sides of his closed eyes, those dark lashes, that soft mouth, ajar, relaxed, freckles. They seemed to have been lying still all night because Cas was on Dean's arm just as he had been.

"Are you awake?" he mumbled.

"Mmm" Dean grunted in reply, keeping his eyes closed. "I am now."

Cas didn't say anything for a while, thinking.

"What would you do if you didn't do the mechanic thing?" he asked, just for the sake of asking - for the sake of talking and hearing Dean's reply and Dean's voice. Dean chuckled before he answered.

"I think I'd be a porn director." A sly smirk. Eyes still shut.

Cas was silent for a moment again.

"Seriously?"

"And I think my porn director name would be... Geddy Hetfield- or- wait- HOTfield, or something, you know, like-"

"I know which bands they're both in" Cas interrupted, and Dean's self-satisfied smirk settled. He opened his eyes, found that Cas was staring up at the ceiling, nudged at him and tried to make him look at him, which he refused. _Porn director_ , Cas thought bitterly.

"I'm just messin' with ya...! Hey, Cas, look at me" Dean said. "Look. At. Me. I'm delicious!" He chuckled a little, and Cas' face turned towards the wonderful sound. "No, but honestly-... A fireman, maybe... or- like- making customized furniture... I just- I can't really see myself doing anything else. Makin' motors run right is what I'm good at..." He moved a little next to Cas, scratching an itch somewhere. "How 'bout you? What do you wanna do?" he asked, throwing the question back at Cas before Cas could oppose Dean's stupid ideas of not being worth a thing.

"I would just like to get a house in the country" he answered honestly.

"Really?"

"Mhm."

"You're such a sap" he teased, but Cas ignored him

"A yellow house by a lake, with big windows and a little pier where you can sit, and chickens and big trees and a small apiary and cats and-"

"I'm allergic to cats."

Cas blushed. He hadn't imagined Dean living in his house with him, but now that Dean had planted the thought in his mind, he couldn't imagine it any other way.

"I wanna tell you something." Dean suddenly sounded so serious, and Cas tensed up, excited, though he tried to relax so that Dean wouldn't feel it. "For years I've thought that I'm not meant to be with just _one_ person. Guess that's why I fuck everything up with everyone..." He rubbed his forehead with the back of his left hand. "I'm not so sure I think that anymore."

Cas turned on his side on Dean's arm and met his gaze. The warmth of the early spring sunshine sneaked in through the tightly shut blinds, illuminating Dean's sunkissed, bare chest. In that moment, Cas realized it. Dean wasn't the kind of guy who threw "I love you's" around. He said it in other ways, and not even that came easy to him.

"Cas" he said. "I need you."

_I love you._

"I need you too, Dean."

_I love you too._

 

* * *

 

 

Cas tiptoed around Dean for a while after that. He didn't ask him about his father again; it just seemed cruel to poke around in that wound.

A month later they took that trip that Dean had talked about. It was a Saturday so Dean had come off work early - he had apparently agreed with Bobby from the start that he wanted to work the occasional weekend as well, just so that he would be able to stash away some extra cash. On this particular Saturday, Cas had a hard time restraining his grin when they reached the pavement below his flat, sometime past noon. The black Chevy Impala was parked by the curb like an insult to the clean, neutral apartment buildings, and Cas could really see why Dean loved it so much. Dean hurried them on, peeking over his shoulder when he thought Cas wasn't looking. They swiftly got in the car and sat down on the whole couch that was the front seat, and when Dean turned the key in the ignition, the engine roared - no; purred.

"Listen to her!" Dean's whole expression lite up from the inside. "You ever heard anything so sweet?"

Cas wasn't sure how long they had been driving because he had fallen asleep with his cheek in an uncomfortable position against his own shoulder. When he woke up they were just entering a small, picturesque town that he hadn't been in before. The houses looked slightly european with their small carved-out wooden details, home after home lined up next to each other with their own blossoming gardens surrounded by white picket fences. The sun shone over children playing hopscotch and football. An old couple, hand in hand on a bench. People, having coffee in an open-air cafe and taking strolls. Seagulls, occupying every open space. It felt peaceful.

"I like it" Cas commented, his eyes darting all over the place. He rubbed the palm of his hand at his aching neck as he got out of the car, just barely registering the sound of Dean slamming the door shut on his own side.

Cas' eyes finally stopped and stared at a store across the street from where they had just parked. The sign above the red door said "Sharing is caring", and there were old furniture, nick-nacks and trinkets in the display window.

"Oooh! Dean!" he called out, catching Dean's attention. He came to a halt by Cas' voice just before he was about to walk in the other direction. "A second-hand store!"

Dean rolled his eyes at him, with a grin, and opened his mouth to say something. But Cas didn't give him the chance before he yanked him with over the road.

A bell klanged over the door as they entered, announcing that new possible customers had arrived. It got the attention of an older woman behind the counter to the right. She was curvy, had a long orange dress with some kind of flowery pattern on it, thin glasses in front of two friendly eyes, and her grey hair was rolled up into a messy bun at the back of her head. She gave them a welcoming smile as they began making their way through rows of porcelain, victorian-looking brushes and mirrors, different lathed wooden chairs, and paintings, among a ton of other stuff. Cas smiled back, nodding his head, before he disappeared away to a long table with lined up, record-filled boxes. The edges were worn-out and old, and the brown cardboard almost looked to be falling apart. But the records seemed to be well taken care of - most of them anyway. Cas started flipping through all of them, now and then pulling one up slightly to examine the cover. Soon he found one that looked interesting enough; the cover was olive-green with a picture of a Union Jack-clad chair above a colorful list of 50's and 60's songs.

"That's a good one" Dean commented, sneaking up behind him, peeking at the record over his shoulder. "House Of The Rising Sun." Dean's presence behind him disappeared away again.

Cas eyed the list. It was the seventh song, first track on the second side of the record. Purple letters. Yeah, he had heard it before, as well as the fourth and the last song. Manfred Mann and Amen Corner with "Do Wah Diddy Diddy" and "Bend Me, Shape Me". The first one was in blue writing, and the other in pink. Cas nodded to himself. Three songs felt like a good basis for taking a chance and buying the thing. Even though he already had the Manfred Mann one on a record, it was so good that he might as well have it on two.

"Hey! Maybe this is something for you." Cas turned and was startled by a book that came flying towards him. He caught it just before it fell to the floor. Dean chuckled at his shocked face.

"Dean!" he exclaimed under his breath. "Be careful." He looked down at the item in his hands. It said " _Post Secret - confessions on life, death, and God_ " in black, squiggly letters on the cover, and the binding felt a little worn out. He flipped it open on a random page. It looked like a home-made, scrap-booked card with the cut-out of a red paper next to a blurry article under a fortune cookie. Atop it all, someone had written "I WAS THE ONE THAT ATE ALL THE FORTUNE COOKIES LAST NIGHT. I was looking for an answer". Dean had been right - it was something for him; a little quirky, a little personal, a little poetic. For a second, Cas imagined that that was what a poem would be like if Dean would ever write one, on a good day.

They strolled around for a while more. Dean; absent. Cas; fascinated. Eventually Dean got so bored that he excused himself and said that he was going to wait outside. The lady couldn't accept his card, so Cas bought the record but left the book - maybe they could come back later when he had had time to find an ATM. The lonely five bucks in his wallet earned him the record and a white plastic bag to carry it in. The woman smiled and waved at him as he left.

Dean took one last pull before he flipped his cigarette away and leaned out from the wall, meeting Cas when he opened the red door and jumped down the two steps.

"You got something?" he asked, following Cas back to the car, bowlegged, hands in his pockets. He kicked grit and gravel in front of him with his boots.

"I got the record. That's all I had cash for." He wiggled the plastic bag in front of Dean's face.

"Liar" Dean teased with a smirk. Cas grimaced in return.

"Actually, she didn't take card."

Dean unlocked the car and placed Cas' finding in the front seat before he slammed the door shut and locked again. He raised his eyes over the roof of the car, towards a park on the other side, and smirked at Cas again, as if he knew something Cas didn't.

"Wanna walk?"

Cas nodded.

"Yes."

He followed Dean around to the entrance of the park and through the opening in the black iron fence. They walked for a while, taking the gravel path in slow, carefree steps. Cas watched Dean in silence while his eyes were focused on something else. Golden green, sparkling orbs, lined by dark lashes. Pink, pouty lips, wetted by a longing tongue. A deep smile dug into his cheeks and created matching crinkles at the sides of his eyes when he caught Cas staring. His unshaved, chiseled jaw was suddenly stroked by Cas' nervous fingers before Cas could stop himself. But Dean didn't seem to mind, even though they were out and around people. Shadows played on his skin, from the sun's rays, partially covered by bare tree branches.

Cas snatched his hand back and was just about to apologize when Dean spoke.

"We are nobody here." His voice was low, sensual, and it sounded like a promise. They smiled at each other, and Cas thought it felt like a bad romantic comedy, but he still loved it. He was finally out in the world in Dean's company.

They sat down shoulder to shoulder on a green wooden bench at the side of the path, and leaned back, watching the calm, swaying greenery infront of them. April was such a decieving month; the sunshine was at its sharpest and warmest, but the air still blew cold winds in through their clothes.

A warm, strong hand suddenly landed atop Cas' right one between them on the bench, gently. A spark shot out from the touch, through his body, and warm happiness filled him like liquid. He didn't dare to look down at their hands, there, together, in case the acknowledgement would make Dean fall back into his old act. So Cas just sat there and savored every last little detail of the moment. He carefully wiggled his fingers up between Dean's and caressed them with small movements.

"So this is what it's like for normal people..." Cas drew a deep breath. "Can we stay here? Like this?" He wasn't sure if he was asking Dean or the universe, or if it was a question at all.

"For a while" Dean said, voice gravelly.

Cas' phone was on silent but he still felt the vibration in his pocket when he got a text message. It was an irritating disturbance, and he stalled for a moment before he sighed and pulled the phone out with his free left hand.

" **Don't forget the church service tomorrow on Easter Sunday.** "

His mother always knew how to ruin a good day, even when she was nowhere near him. He sighed again and put the phone back in his coat pocket. Dean finally shifted his eyes from the trees to Cas, giving him a questioning look.

"Just my mother" Cas explained. He didn't say anything more, so it really was a poor explanation. But Dean seemed to get the point of it anyway.

"Here..." He pulled out a small, wrinkled paper napkin from the back pocket of his jeans, and smoothed it out on his thigh with his free right hand. "You got a pen?"

Cas felt around on his coat, patted with his left hand on his pockets until he surprisingly enough found an orange pencil with his school's logo on it, which he handed over. Dean took it and began scrabbling something on the paper. It looked really difficult with just one hand, and Cas began moving his right hand under Dean's to let him know that it was okay for him to let go. But Dean just wrapped his fingers tighter around his, never lifting his hand off of Cas', and it was all so exciting and enticing, the feeling it gave him.

"Give this to your mom and tell her 'hi' from me" Dean said with a grin, as he handed over the tiny artwork, or whatever you would call it; it was folded twice so he couldn't see what it was.

"What-... is it?" Cas asked, slowly. He peered his eyes at the paper, just incase he would be able to see through to the indefinable doodle inside.

"It's-... well... let's say, it's the freckin' truth" he replied. Very mysterious.

"Well" Cas said, eyebrows raised. He tucked the paper in his left coat pocket. "I bet you're quite the artist." He was joking, obviously, but Dean ignored the irony and grinned.

"Thanks!"

"It's a little worrying, but-"

"Yeah- well- y'know- I could just come with you and tell her a thing or two instead... Face to face" Dean offered.

"So that's what you were fishing for; meeting my mother to shame her?" Cas said rhetorically, arching a brow, snorting. It was an intriguing proposition which he had to ponder over in his head for a moment. "I'll let you know."

The corners of Dean's mouth curled up and made Cas smile as well, and soon they sat there, smiling at each other like two idiots. Cas just wanted to lean forward and press his lips against Dean's, but yet again he found himself nervous and frightened. He started to feel clammy under his clothes, and Dean squeezed his hand around Cas'. He managed to turn his hand around under Dean's, palm against palm, entwining their fingers properly. Dean raised his right hand and grasped the locket with Cas' picture through his t-shirt. The small gesture spoke louder than any word.

It was unclear really how long they sat there, merely holding hands, but Cas didn't mind the simple pleasure. Not until the sky started to darken and the rain began to fall, and they had to run and take cover in the Impala. They laughed, and Dean tousled his wet hair, running his hands through it back and forth so that the rain caught in it, splashed all over the seat and soaked through Cas' shirt. He never wanted it to end - he never wanted to go back home again. But there wasn't much of a choice because the next day was Easter Sunday.

Ten forty-seven, Cas pulled up and parked his car on the driveway outside of the church. It brought back memories of Christmas Day when he saw his mother waving from where she stood waiting on the white gravel walk. Only, this time there was less snow, and Cas was accompanied by Hannah instead of Meg. He sighed to himself. His mother had allowed him to get every other Sunday off from the church services, as long as he attended the big holiday ones; probably because she couldn't bare herself to look upon him too often. If only she could stop fighting the thought of him being different - it was as if she thought he was joking or merely going through a phase; she still seemed to hope that he would be cured, saved. But Cas knew all too well that he was long past saving.

One single swift thought of Dean was enough to make Cas blush, as he and Hannah stepped out of the car. A memory, hands grabbing desperately, biting kisses, the drag of blunt nails over sensitive skin, panting breaths, hot, wet, sinful lips, bodies pressing together, skin slapping on skin. A remembrance, Dean growling filthy encouragement in Cas' ear, his husky voice telling him how good he is when he's bad, and how gorgeous he is when he's bending, squirming, writhing, all hot and bothered and well-fucked under Dean while he's buried, throbbing deep inside, and Dean is going to remember it for days.

Yes, Cas was _definitely_ beyond saving.

He quickly shoved those thoughts and feelings away into a dark corner, and he sat quiet through the whole sermon, feeling small and insignificant next to his parents and his brothers. They towered over him like angry, dark storm clouds, faces stern, listening intently, agreeing blindly with the priest up on the ornate pulpit. Cas was scared. This was enemy territory. He glanced over at Hannah from time to time. She looked up at the preacher as well, but she didn't seem just as convinced as his family. It eased Cas' worry a bit, but not enough. He suddenly found himself longing for Meg; at least he would have felt safe if she had been there.

When it was over, Naomi slowed her steps to walk with her son, waving for Hannah to run along with Gabriel, Michael and Mr Novak. When she nodded and hurried on her steps, Cas and Naomi was left, strolling in a slower pace, a few steps behind the others. The sky was gloomy grey above them, and the gravel scraped under their feet.

"Miss Johnson is nice, isn't she?" Naomi said with a polite smile, hugging Cas awkwardly from the side with one stiff arm around his shoulders. It sickened him. He knew what this was; this was his mother testing the waters, seeing if he was "turning straight", if he was "coming to his senses". But he would forever disappoint her.

"Hannah is mannerly" he agreed lowly.

"And beautiful as well!" She sounded a little too excited, tugging at him. He wanted to get angry, to yell, break free from her arm and from everything that was thrust upon him, but he couldn't. "The two of you make such a lovely couple!"

"But- She's not my-" He was going to say "type"; he didn't want to give word to the obvious, say it aloud and upset his mother again. But he didn't get that far before she interrupted him.

"We're so glad you gave up on that gastly _homosexual_ indecency." The word "homosexual" was hissed lowly between her teeth, as if it was a sin just to speak it. She squeezed around his shoulders one last time before she let go and resumed merely walking firmly alongside him. "It was disgusting and embarrassing and unnatural-"

"Don't you have any more verbs?" he mumbled to himself. She didn't seem to hear, because if she had, he would have known; she would have scolded him about it and about respecting your parents and not being an arrogant shit. He was used to that - he knew exactly what it sounded like; he had heard it so many times that the shift from normal tone of voice to the scary, deep, rumbling hissing of his parents, had festered, living within him.

"-but now we will have no more of it" she finished, nodding once with a content smile, showing off a perfect set of white teeth.

Cas looked forward at the others waiting by one of their ridiculously expensive cars. Hannah was laughing at something Michael had said, standing a little too close to him. Mike was the handsome first born, and always had been their parents' favourite. Flawless skin, shiny brown locks of hair, perfect everything; he reminded Cas of that what's-his-name male Barbie. Annoying really. Gabriel, on the other hand - yes, typical of his parents to name their children after angels -, was the funny one, so Cas could see why they kept him around. But as much as Cas himself, the third son, had wished to be normal and loved by his family, his whole life, he just couldn't change. He was the constant disappointment, the black sheep, the monster. Although, recently he had started to wonder who were the real monsters.


	12. The other Winchester

In June, Dean almost gave Cas a heartattack with another idea of his.

"Get ready! There's gonna be a party!"

Cas jerked out of his comfortable position in the corner of the couch when Dean hauled himself in through the front door. He had been seated in the same position for God knows how long, with his head buried in his study books, and as a result he had lost track of time. He color coded another one of the relating subjects in his note book before answering.

"Hello to you too" he said, snorting. He glanced down at his wristwatch. "You're like a threatening antigen to my studies." He folded the top corner of the page, closed the microbiology text book and slowly put it down in his lap, thinking about what Dean had just said. "What? You want me to come with you tonight?" he asked doubtingly, furrowing his brows. He was genuinely surprised. As much as he wanted to jump at the possibility to attend a party in Dean's company, the thought troubled him. "Are you sure that's a good idea?"

"My brother passed his final exams! He's a real bigshot lawyer now" Dean said with a wide, proud grin. He practically leaped over the floor and sank down behind the couch to rest his arms on the back of it, the leather jacket creaking slightly, his face in eye-level with Cas'. The anticipation shone in his golden green orbs and as usual it made Cas all giggly to see Dean so happy

"Good for him! But don't joke around, Dean" Cas begged warningly. "Help me study for this test instead." He patted the couch seat with one hand and opened the book again with the other, averting his eyes from Dean's. "Or maybe you would want to learn something yourself? Answer this. The first cells were probably-...?"

"Lonely."

"Dean" Cas grunted. He furrowed his brows and gave Dean a quick glance. His jaw rested on his hands on the back of the couch, right by Cas' face. Disturbingly arousingly close. "You're not even trying to guess. Okay. What about this one..." He let his index finger trace the questions on the soft, glossy page. "What is poly-beta-hydroxybutyrate?"

"Freckin' hard to pronounce." Dean smiled crookedly and Cas grunted again, louder. He didn't resist when Dean took the book from his lap and put it away on the seat next to them. "I want you two to meet." The six words suddenly ignited something warm in Cas' heart, which spread out into the rest of him like liquid bliss.

"You mean- like a-...?" he stuttered as his heart started to vibrate with reluctant hope in his chest. It pounded violently when Dean leaned over the backrest and pulled him in by tugging at the back of his neck, interlacing his fingers with Cas' dark scruff, kissing him, wild and wet, biting at his lower lip, all tongue and passion, and no air.

"Like a friend" he filled in when they broke the kiss, and he stood up again. "We'll go as friends." Cas' heart sank back down into its sinus. Of course he understood. He really should have guessed it himself, instead of letting his mind trail off, getting his hopes up.

"I mean, I'd really like to-... you know. But I just- I can't... I still want you two to meet though!" He pulled his phone out of his jacket, flipped it open and pressed a few keys. "We'll get there, have a great time and be buddies. All according to _keikaku_." The foreign word sounded weird as well as extremely cute spoken with Dean's rugged, american accent.

"According to what?" Cas snorted and raised his eyebrows. Six months in and Dean still surprised him.

"Nah- Just- Bobby. He knows japanese, and when you live with the guy for a few years, you sorta pick up on things."

Cas nodded to himself, and Dean began throwing one leg casually in front of the other, moving around the room with the phone glued to his ear. He was obviously too excited to stay still, and it slowly started to rub off on Cas who sat on the couch with his legs folded under him, watching Dean's every move, every change in his posture and facial expression. Maybe this could work! As long as he reminded himself to act normal. Straight. Completely and utterly. No inappropriate thoughts or gazes or touches... Maybe they were way too deep in over their heads...

"Heya again, Sammy" he said. "You on your way? Remember the address?" He was quiet for a moment, merely listening. "Okay. So where're we gon-... At her dorm? Haven't you knocked her on the head and dragged her over to live in your cave yet?" Some more silent listening. "Yeah well I thought you were both enjoying the sweet apple pie life by now!" He grinned to himself and then grimaced at something Sam said on the other end. "You know I'm not the settling down type-... No- eh- Lisa can't make it tonight" he said shortly, the amusement disappearing from both his voice and face for a moment. "Oh yeah" he replied to something else Sam had said, lolling against the kitchen counter. "Well, I'm bringing the two B's; a bottle and a buddy-... N- no, Sammy, they're not the same this time." He tried to keep the smirk out of his voice as he raised his coruscationing greens and locked on with Cas' blues, making him feel all warm inside again. Dean's eyes really could do wonders, and Cas made a silly mental note to research something similar to cure patients with. Dopamine, seratonin, oxytocin... "O- okay, kiddo. See ya later." Dean clicked the call away.

"Why aren't we taking the Impala?" he asked, resuming his microbiology studies.

"Because I ain't gonna drive her when I'm drunk. That'd just be stupid." Dean walked around the couch and crashed down on it next to Cas. He took the book out of Cas' hands, folded the top corner again where the previous crease was, and put it away on the coffee table.

"I don't know if I can do this, Dean" Cas said with a worried frown, wrapping his arms around his legs, chin resting on his knees. Dean scoffed.

"Of course you can! It'll just be a little somethin' somethin' at Jess' place. They thought they'd kill two stones with one bird, what with his exam and her moving out of the dorm" Dean said explanatory. He leaned back, put his arms up on the back of the couch and let Cas nestle himself at his side, habitually. "Sam's on his way to pick us up right now."

They didn't sit like that for very long before Dean's phone started ringing. He jerked out of his seat to answer, back to his superexcited state. Cas was left on the couch, anxious, missing the comfort of Dean's arm around his shoulders.

_Wait. Come back. Come back to me. Let me see your face. Let me feel your soothing touch again. Make me know that it's okay, that we're okay._

"Cas!"

He shifted his eyes towards Dean's voice, catching the green-eyed man slipping into his shoes at the door.

"Sam's outside."

A moment later they were swooshing forward in Sam's dark car. Dean's little brother had been much more of a giant than Cas would have ever guessed, with long brown hair tucked away behind his ears, and kind eyes. Cas had jumped in the back and Sam Winchester had shifted around in his seat, quickly nodding at Cas, introducing himself with a warm "Hi. Sam." before he turned the key in the ignition and drove off.

The radio in the car was on a station Cas hadn't listened to before, humming something, lowly. He felt like a stuffed animal where he sat in the backseat - his head felt funny, and he found it hard to speak in a relaxed manner because the stuffing was all the way up in his throat. He casually glanced at Dean, riding shotgun, messing with Sam about something, chuckling, nestling his Jack Daniels in his lap. Cas could both see and feel Dean slipping away into his macho role already, and as always, he didn't like it. Although, he had never really seen it like this, up close, since Dean had never brought him along to a party before.

Cas quit trying to bring himself to start a conversation, and instead leaned against the door, looking out through the window, sharpening his ears to hear what it actually was that came whispering out through the speakers. He flinched with sudden excitement when he realized, surprised that a radio station played this version of the song. Before he could stop himself, he hauled forward between the two Winchesters and turned up the volume. It was a sad-sounding tune with a lonely guitar accompanying male voices that created beautiful harmonies. It might not have been the best pre-party song, but Cas loved it.

" _I held your heart, a giant wand, all tell of sorrow... And history begins to be blue and brown eyes... Whoa-ah ah-ah-ah, bring 'em all back to life... Whoa-ah ah-ah-ah, bring 'em all back to life_..."

Quickly, he leaned back, his heart pounding. He noticed Sam giving Dean a short, strange look which went by unreplied and unnoticed. No one said anything.

It didn't take them too long to arrive, and when Sam had parked the car, they followed him into a big brick building and then up a few stairs. Dean had been wrong - or more probably, he had lied to appease Cas. The party in the dorm was a bit more than just "a little somethin' somethin'", as Dean had assured him. Drunk adolecents were chilling in the hallways, leaning in the doorways, and just generally being in the way. Somehow the three managed to make their path over to one of the wide open doors, and into a crowded room. It was a little draughty, and Cas figured it was because of the people smoking on the couch by the open window.

At first Cas hadn't been watching where they were going, but eventually he payed attention. Sam had left them for a moment, only to come back with three beers, clanging together. He led them towards a beautiful blonde with so much love and life in her smile that it seemed to be able to brighten anyone's day. She didn't seem to notice them in the corner of her eye, because she kept talking to another girl, and Cas caught the middle of their conversation as they got closer.

"I've discovered that she knows how to tickle! She's so sweet! Can you imagine; one year old and the happiest little person in the whole world!" the blonde said excitedly to her friend, with a constant smile.

"Hey, Jess!" Dean cheered with a grin.

She turned to them and lit up, hugged Dean, leaned into Sam's arms and stood on her toes to give him a tender kiss. She then waited politely for someone to introduce Cas. Sam kept his eyes glued down on Jessica the whole time, smiling softly, and Cas could see how millions of loving thoughts swirled around in his mind - he got crinkles by his eyes, the kind you got when you looked at someone you really love. Cas wondered if Dean ever gazed at him like that, when he wasn't looking, almost secretively. Probably not. It would surely have exposed him.

"This is Cas. Cas - Jess" Dean said quickly, pointing his thumb back and forth between the two, before he commented on the conversation which they had stumbled upon. "Guessing it's your niece you're still on about. You should teach her indian burns instead. Tickling are for dorks."

Jess gave Cas a welcoming nod and a warm, comforting smile.

"She's totally badass all on her own" she then assured Dean, furrowing her brows with a half smile.

"Not if this dork here's gonna babysit." Dean gave Sam's shoulder a few manly whacks, grinning.

"Hey! This dork is probably gonna have to save you from going to prison sometime in the future" Sam said with a laugh.

"Oh- Yeah- I'm so proud of him!" Jess shrieked to Dean and Cas, before looking up at Sam. "Seriously. You knocked 'em dead at that test."

Sam raised his gaze for a moment, badly restraining a blushing smile. Dean raised a brow and shook his head at his brother, throwing his head back and emptying his beer.

"Me and the rest of the class." Sam gave Jess a half smirk, pulled her in closer, bent his neck and kissed her softly, taking her lower lip in his mouth. Cas blushed slightly and averted his eyes from the couple. His gaze wandered down to Dean's hand, hangin at his side, close to Cas'. He must have felt Cas' blue eyes on him because he suddenly tucked his hands in the pockets of his jacket and rolled slightly on his heels, casually swaying away from Cas.

"Hey, Jess. You gonna introduce your lady friends to me, or what?" Dean grinned at Jess and got a sly smile in return before she grabbed his arm and pulled him along.

"You don't seem like his type" Sam commented conversationally when he and Cas were left alone. He took a pull off his beer as they watched Dean and Jess move away, criss-crossing between people. Dean nodded at some and jabbed his fists playfully at others. The brown glass bottle dangled between Sam's index and middle finger. He had been sipping on that same beer ever since they came, which wasn't a big deal, but Cas still caught it as a noticeable difference compared to Dean who threw his head back, emptying glass after glass of golden JD like there was no tomorrow, drinking it down as if they were merely shots of water. Sometimes Cas seriously questioned if Dean even had a liver.

Cas tensed up and felt the heat spread on his neck, taking a step back as Sam turned his eyes to him with an expression which Cas couldn't quite decipfer at the moment. _Busted_ , Cas thought to himself. Had Sam figured it out already?

"His... type?"

"Yeah" he answered as if they were having any old every-day conversation. "His choice in friends is usually more-..." He cleared his throat, and Cas relaxed slightly. Sam was obviously talking about Dean's habit of surrounding himself with more masculine, loud friends and beautiful, female creatures.

"Rugged?" was the first word that came to his mind. Sam snorted once, smiling.

"Yeah, you could say that." He casually searched the crowd for Dean again, and Cas followed his gaze, finding Dean across the room. He was leaning against the far wall, looking down at a short blonde, a happy smile on his chatty mouth. "Something's different about him."

Dean felt their eyes on him and looked up, grinning at them with a quick wave of his hand across the room. Cas willed himself not to smile like an idiot and spill the beans about him and Dean, even though he wanted nothing more.

"Maybe it's Lisa who's beeing such a good influence on him" Sam pondered aloud. Cas suddenly didn't like what he heard. It hurt, but before he got a chance to pull himself together and soothe his bruised heart, Sam continued. "I haven't seen him like this since before Afghanistan."

Time stopped. For a moment Cas was too stunned to speak, and when that moment had gone Sam had moved off to find Jessica in the throng, leaving Cas to his fate in the strange dorm room with a bunch of drunk people he didn't know, an untouched bottle of beer in his hand, and his own whirlwind of thoughts. What had Sam just said? Cas couldn't wrap his mind around it. Had Dean been in a war? Had he killed anyone? Why hadn't he told Cas about this?

"Wait-... What?"

His phone vibrated furoiusly, claiming his attention. The screen went black just as he mindlessly pulled it out of his pocket, but it lit up again as he pressed the button on the side with his thumb.

" **I'm going commando.** "

Dean was such a mean tease, making Cas blush in puplic, knowing he could do nothing about the enticement. He raised his gaze and found Dean in the same spot across the room, talking to the same girl plus a new one. Their eyes met briefly and sparks flew. How was Cas supposed to survive this night?

He spent his time avoiding Dean all together, sipping his beer, strolling up and down the halls, wondering exactly why Dean had brought him in the first place. To meet his brother, sure, but then what? Cas wasn't any good at parties or people, and Dean knew that.

Cas entertained himself with drinking and listening in on strangers' conversations, even if his parents had raised him to behave better than that. After a while of sipping and strolling around he suddenly found himself passing by and _stopping_ right by Dean and two girls. One of the girls seemed to keep her eye on him as he sank down on the couch close to them. He wanted to be near Dean, and in his drunken haze he somehow seemed to think that hovering close by was a smooth move.

"Who's he?" the suspicious girl asked Dean. She didn't get an answer. It twinged. Dean might as well have plunged a knife into his chest - it would have hurt less. Cas stood up and moved further away. He stared up into the dark ceiling, wishing he could fade away, disintegrate into atoms and disappear into space. No one would even notice the absence of him. What had he to live for, really?

He had no recollection of time. He checked his wristwatch from time to time, but as soon as he looked away he forgot what it had said. It wasn't until Sam found him sunken down into someone's armchair that he came to a little. Apparently Sam had been looking for him for quite a while because, evidently, it was late and they were leaving.

"Dean is slurring something about that he's not leaving here without you" Sam said, beckoning Cas to stand up and follow him out to the hallway. He did as he was asked. He felt bubbly on the inside from Sam's retelling of Dean's words, but he wasn't drunk enough to laugh hysterically, like he suddenly wanted.

They sat next to each other in the back of Sam's car all the way to Cas' apartment, but they didn't say a thing - Dean didn't even look at him. Sam and Jess dropped them off on the curb outside of the flat, and when Cas stepped out of the vehicle, the lukewarm summer air helped him to clear his head a little more.

"You want a ride home?" Sam asked through his rolled down window, as Dean strode out onto the pavement. He shook his head in reply, forcefully shoving his hands down into his pockets.

"Got my baby here" he said. Cas' face flushed red - thank God the night was dark enough to conceal his sudden change of shade.

"It's a car, Dean" Sam said, almost teasingly. "And it's in the garage here, right? You can pick it up tomorrow." But Dean shook his head again, like a child.

"It's not just a car. She needs me."

Sam lifted both his hands off of the steering wheel in a surrendering gesture, raising his brows and pursing his lips.

"Fine. Do what you want. Sleep in the car. What do I care." He looked past Dean and waved at Cas with one flick of his wrist. "It was nice meeting you, Cas."

"Bye!" Jess shouted with a smile, leaning over Sam to get a look at the two through the window, before the car disappeared down the street.

Cas considered helping Dean's drunk ass up the stairs, but refrained. He took the steps one by one, legs heavy, and he could hear Dean following close behind him.

"Lots of pretty girls at that party" Cas commented casually in a slur, hinting at all the young women Dean had talked to during the evening. They both leaned on the railing and took slow drunken, staggering steps, dragging themselves up the stairwell. Cas didn't want to fight about this yet again, but he couldn't keep himself from saying something.

"Yep" Dean answered blandly.

Cas unlocked the door for them, and yawned as he kicked off his shoes and threw his clanging keys onto the kitchen countertop. Dean sloppily pushed the door shut behind him with his boot. Cas was just about to head for the bedroom when Dean caught his wrist and pulled him back, catching him and holding him close as he devoured his mouth with his own. He tasted of liquor and longing. Cas didn't get a chance to catch his breath, and he felt a little awkward for a second before he got into the rhythm.

"If a girl had wanted to see me naked when I was a kid-" Dean said, breaking the kiss. "-that woulda been a life changing moment. If a girl had wanted to see me naked six months ago, that woulda been a normal yet sweet victory. But now- tonight-... All I could think about all night was the way you _didn't_ look at me."

It showed in Dean's eyes that it had been driving him insane, and Cas felt amazing knowing that he had that inpact on him. Drunk with power and lust and alcohol, Cas suddenly surprised them both by taking command and pushing Dean back against the wall, pressing their aching, longing bodies together. The feel of the outlining of Dean's dick through his jeans against Cas' thigh, took up Cas' mind completely, shutting the world out as Dean tugged at his shirt and slid his hands in under it, caressing and clawing at the skin on the small of his back.

They panted together, more air than tongue in their passionate kiss, as Cas started to give Dean's suddenly very complicated belt more attention with one hand, palming his dick through the jeans with the other. Dean gave out a low animal-like grunt when Cas stroked him roughly through his jeans. Their mouths consumed each other, hot and wet, and Dean's fingers traced higher up on Cas' back and around to his chest. He carefully and purposely slid his fingers over all the scars, and Cas swiftly stepped away, pinning Dean's arms to the wall. They stared at each other in silence for a second that felt like forever, and Dean gave him a confused look, waiting.

"Why do you have to ruin it?" Cas asked, the expression on his face suddenly grave and despondent. He saw the shadow of the movement on Dean's throat as he swallowed.

"Why won't you let me touch them?" Dean responded, eyes changing.

"Why do you have to touch them?" he bit back, loosening his grip only to push Dean's arms against the wall anew.

"Just-... 'Cause I need you to know that I'm okay with them." He stared at Cas for a moment, searching for a sign that his words had stuck. "Dammit, Cas."

Cas drew a sharp breath as if to snap back at him, but he couldn't find anything to say, nor did he want to hurt Dean when he was being loving. Instead he stepped closer again, and placed a chaste kiss on his pouty lips right before Dean drew a deep breath and coaxed Cas' apart, licking at his gaping mouth. Cas emitted a small moan and Dean took the opportunity to slowly change places, turning Cas around, still kissing, pinning his back up against the wall, before he dropped to his knees and unzipped Cas' pants. He didn't take it any further; he didn't pull them down or even sneak his hand inside to palm at the obvious erection. Instead Cas felt Dean's warm and wet mouth kissing and licking, almost obsessively sucking flecks of scarlet onto the surface of the thin skin at the jut where Cas' hipbones peeked above the waistband of his pants, teeth grazing at it now and again. He was marking him, and not in a bad way like his father had done with his fists and knives and cigarettes. Dean was marking him as his own, leaving hickeys all across his nether region. He couldn't help but moan again when Dean's tongue traced a wet line to the middle, almost slipping down towards his crotch slightly. His fingers dug into Dean's shoulders, not wanting to make him stop, but knowing he had to.

"Dean-" he breathed. He was just about to continue the sentence, but Dean interrupted him.

"Say that again" he begged, breathing on his skin which shivered, creating tiny, sensitive goosebumps.

"Dean" he repeated in a moan, and Dean bit his skin gently, squeezing the back of his thighs with desperate restraint in his fingers. "I need-... need..."

"What? Cas... What do you need?" He continued nipping and squeezing and licking, and Cas started to squirm and writhe in his grasp.

"I have to get up early to-ooh Dean..." He could feel Dean smirking against the sensetive skin just above his dick, kneading his ass with his strong hands at the same time. Hot, hard, wet and dirty as sin.

"Tonight was torture" Dean grunted as he finally began to wiggle down Cas' pants, carefully, until his legs were bare and Dean helped him to step out of them. He rose, his body tight against Cas' all the way up, pressing his cock at Cas, merely his jeans and Cas' briefs separating them.

"N-ohh... Dean... I really need to-... to study anatomy... in the morning..." he insisted between kisses.

"You do that too much..." Dean rubbed against him, slowly, hard, and they groaned, panting into each others mouths. "You'd finish faster if I helped you" he suggested. "I'll put my hand on something and you tell me what it is." The offer made Cas grow even harder and he couldn't make himself pull away.

"Sounds reasonable" he breathed with a grin against Dean's mouth.

Afterwards they lay in bed, sticky from the sweat and the cum, glued to each other. After the tables had been turned once again and Dean had begged Cas for more and harder and faster - it had been his turn to writhe and whimper under Cas' weight, exposed in a way which he had never let himself be with anyone before. He had tested the iron grip on his wrists which Cas had pinned down into the mattress, enveloped with his fists, until Cas had growled warningly, squeezed tighter with his fingers and thrust into him even harder, punitive. They wore themselves out to the thrilling sound of sweaty skin slapping and unrestrained groans of pleasure; grabbing and scratching and nipping and leaving love marks that no one else would see, turning themselves inside out, over and over again, pushing each other towards the edge before falling back, only to build it up again, finally falling over together, just in time. They ended up panting, exhausted, sore, grinning at each other with their foreheads pressed together and their fingers intertwined, shivering and clinging to one another in the aftermath. Dean had whispered reassurances and Cas had whispered encouragement, between gentle kisses in the ebb of the roughness. Eventually Dean's tipsy mind caused his eyelids to grow heavy, but he tried to stay awake, forcing himself to keep looking at Cas.

"It's okay, Dean. You can sleep. I'll just read for a while." He scooched up, resting his back against his pillows and the headboard. Dean nestled up at his side, tangled in their shared duvet - one felt like enough so the other had been abandoned on the floor - burying his nose in his ribs, his left arm thrown over Cas' stomach. He willed himself not to start counting the freckles across Dean's nose, because he knew that if he did, he would never get anywhere with his homework.

Finally Dean seemed to give in and doze off, bundled up with all his limbs wrapped around Cas' in one way or another.

"Sleep" Cas beckoned. "I'll watch over you."


	13. Life don't wait

He sat curled up on the sofa with his legs bent in front of him, resting the newspaper on his thighs, wearing nothing but a pair of Dean's boxers and his grey ACDC t-shirt, which was just a little too big for Cas. Dean had started leaving clothes around the apartment, but Cas didn't say anything - it only made the space feel more like theirs and not just his, even though it was just his. But a guy could dream, right?

The sunlight shone a little gloomily in through the big windows, but it felt alright; this was the first time it had rained all August, and September was only days away. The coffee in his blue mug on the table in front of him, had cooled down to a bitter, cold, black sludge. The floorboards squeaked behind him, and a record crackled on the turntable when the needle was lowered onto the vinyl. He recognized the guitar line immediately.

" _It's all the same... Only the names'll change... Everyday... It seems we're wasting away..._ "

Cas didn't look up from his paper when he spoke.

"Have you seen this?" he began. "A park bench has been beaten up. There's even a picture of it." He laughed a little and raised the paper above his head, even though he was pretty sure Dean wasn't paying attention. "Don't they have anything else to write about?"

"Haven't seen nothin'. Just got up, you know. Is there any coffee?"

"Mhm. It's on."

He could hear Dean move around in the kitchen behind him. Cas flipped through pages and kept reading aloud for Dean, now and then pulling quotes from the articles.

"Hey- You wanna go try that new thai food place? I haven't had thai food in a while" Cas trailed off. Dean was probably going to say no, as usual, but Cas just had to try.

"I don't know, Cas-" he said doubtingly. That meant no.

"Oh" Cas uttered, turning his focus back to the newspaper, avoiding the awkwardness. "New stem cell research."

"Mhm" Dean hummed distantly, only half-listening as he poured his coffee.

"It says that scientists have successfully developed methods including cellular reprogramming and artificial chromosomes" he read aloud.

"You and your medical mumbo-jumbo." Dean snorted and blew on the hot, black pit in his mug before taking a sip.

"-all to make it possible for-..." Cas stopped himself and continued reading in silence. Dean hadn't really been listening before, but now that Cas stopped talking, his curiosity suddenly peaked.

"For what?" he asked casually, opening the fridge to look around for something tasty.

"How old are you, Dean?" Cas asked in reply, ignoring the question he himself had gotten. Dean slammed the refrigerator door shut.

"Old enough" he answered as he moved around the couch and sat down next to Cas, knees far apart, coffee mug in hand. He had only pulled on his grey sweatpants, leaving his chest bare for Cas to behold. Probably on purpose. It was hard not to steal glances of the cute little soft part under Dean's bellybutton, but Cas did his best, staring infernally on the newspaper clutched in his hands. "Why? What're you reading about?"

"Have you ever thought about having kids?"

"What?"

"I want kids someday, and I want them to be partially me."

"What're you babbling about?" Dean yanked the newspaper from him and peered his eyes, trying to find the answers himself, but he didn't understand a single one of the intricate medical terms.

"And it seems like my kids can be partially the person I love, too." He kept talking but Dean didn't know what he was saying. "It says so here." He leaned closer to Dean and pointed at a paragraph. "The first successful, approved, safe test has been made... Have you any idea what this means, Dean?"

"No, because I have no freckin' clue what you're going on about!" he exclaimed.

"Two men can now have biological kids together."

They were silent for a moment. Cas tried to swallow down the lump in his throat as his body tried to suppress the instinct to increase oxygen flow.

"This is amazing, Dean. It's a huge win."

They were silent for an even longer moment.

"Wow" was all Dean said, imperturbably. "Good for them." He threw the newspaper back in Cas' lap and sipped his coffee, eyes peering slightly from the burning heat trickling down in his throat.

"Them?" Cas repeated and furrowed his brows in confusion, snorting, hesitating; he didn't know whether to laugh or be upset with Dean's reaction. "Er... You do know that you're one of 'them'... right?"

Dean took bigger gulps, finishing his coffee before he stood up. Cas followed his every move; even when he disappeared into the bedroom, Cas kept his eyes by the door frame where he had last seen him. He could hear him move around in the dark for a moment, rummaging in his drawer, accidentally hitting his toes on the bedpost.

"Ah! Fuck!" he cursed, muffling a rant.

"Dean?"

"Leave it alone, Cas" he said with a warning in his voice. He groaned in annoyance and emerged from the bedroom again, fully clothed and ready to go. "I've gotta get to work."

"You're a member of this group of people, Dean. Just like I-"

"Cas" he interrupted sternly, raising his voice.

"Or have you forgotten that we've been fucking for the past-..." He hesitated in order to recount their time together, backwards. "-eight months?" he finally added. The question was rhetorical, accusatory, and he raised his voice as well.

"Yeah" Dean agreed. "And ain't that a bit too soon to talk about baby makin'?"

"Well, I didn't mean now... It was just a question."

"I don't have time for this" Dean mumbled as he threw his jacket on and stepped into his boots. He slammed the door behind him when he left. His footsteps, fading down the stairwell, echoed louder than Cas' shallow breaths in his quiet apartment. It was the same old contrast; Cas, small and careful, trying to talk to Dean about their biggest issue, while Dean, tired and reluctant, continued to ignore it. It was like a boat trying to gently ride out a storm, and Cas was merely one of the oars.

He sat in silence for a while, just breathing, rubbing a little at his left temple where a headache had started to make itself felt. It was Friday, which meant that he didn't have to stress to get ready for anything. The newspaper article got a final glance before it slipped down onto the rug with a faint rustle.

He stood up, moved his bare feet and legs over the chilly floor, and pressed the stop button on the turntable before heading towards the shower in the bath behind the bedroom. As usual, it took a moment for the water to heat up - at first when he had discovered the flaw, he had considered calling his parents about it and have them send someone over to fix it. But he had soon come to the conclusion that he liked all the little imperfections which he had as well as hadn't caused around the flat - all the small stuff that his parents knew nothing of. The delayed hot water was just one of the things that Cas wasn't the cause of.

Lukewarm water streamed over his fingers, and he decided that he had waited long enough. The ACDC shirt, along with the boxers, landed in a grey pile on the white floor tiles, before he stepped in the shower and let the water wash over him. He stood still under the stream, turning his face up and closing his eyes, feeling, dragging it out, imagining how all his worries just washed right off of him. His hands began exploring as he spread the Axe shower gel from shoulders to elbows, from armpits, over his chest, down his sides, down over hip bones and midriff, careful not to touch his scars. Dean popped up in his head and caused more than his nipples to tense up, but Cas didn't feel like doing anything about it except force it down.

When he stepped out of the shower, he hesitated one short second before he pulled on Dean's t-shirt again. The boxers were kicked aside, and when he looked down he found his dick to be hard. Ready for battle, he thought, snorting to himself before he went out from the steam into the cool air of the bedroom. It was a bit tricky to get his briefs on, but the cold atmosphere in the room helped a little. He finished getting dressed and decided to go for a walk - he couldn't stand being pent up in his flat all day.

The late-summer air was refreshing, and he huddled under his umbrella. A small, warm feeling of content forced the corners of his mouth to curl upwards as he listened to the traffic and the sound of clopping feet on the sidewalk and the vague wind and the rain crashing softly above and around him. Autumn seemed to be coming early. It pleased him. He liked autumn; it was the most beautiful one out of all the seasons.

He took a few extra lefts and rights around the block, beaming over all the rapidly fading leaves as he passed by the park. On his way back to the flat, he jumped in and picked up some thai food for himself, plus a little extra just in case he would feel gracious towards Dean later. He took deep breaths, his mouth watering over the smell of spicy food, as he strolled down the street with two brown paper bags in his hands. It had stopped raining so the tiny umbrella simply dangled from his wrist by a knitted plastic band.

In the corner of his eye he saw something bright following him and he hurried on his steps. When he stopped by a street crossing, he finally turned, casually looking around. A small, fluffy, beige border collie stood a few meters behind him, watching him - the only reason he recognized the breed was because a childhood friend of his had had one just like it, except that the friend's border collie had had a black top fur coat instead of beige. The dog shifted its eyes from him to the bags of food in his hands, staring, and then back up to him.

"Hi there" Cas heard himself say. He quickly glanced around to see if anyone else had heard him, before he turned back to the dog. "Are you lost?" He took both bags in his left hand, bent his knees slightly and reached out his free right hand to beckon the dog closer. "Is it my dinner you're after?" As it sniffed his hand and wagged its tail, Cas got a crazy idea.

Later, in the evening, he sat on the couch with his feet up, his school books in his lap, glasses on his nose, and the border collie across his legs. He barely noticed when the door opened and Dean stepped inside. It wasn't until Dean spoke that Cas sat up straight and held the dog down gently, hidden by the back of the couch.

"Hey, man- Oh something smells good!" Dean kicked off his shoes and followed his nose to the kitchen, rummaging through the brown paper bags on the counter, with leftover thai food.

"Er... Dean...?" How was he going to do this? It was too late to change his mind about it now. He couldn't smuggle the dog out behind Dean's back, and he didn't have the heart to do it either. "There's something I need to-"

"Have you eaten?"

"Eh- Yeah. Dean, I need to tell you something." Cas didn't get much further before Dean appeared in front of him with a box of red chicken noodles in one hand and a beer in the other. He was just about to sit down when he raised his eyes to the little ball of fur next to Cas on the couch and came to a halt.

"Cas" he said with a sigh and a warning in his voice, closing his eyes. "Is there a dog in my seat?"

"Yeah..." He swallowed nervously.

"Why is there a dog in my seat?"

"See, Dean, that's what I wanted to talk to you about-" he began explanatory.

"Caaas" Dean groaned. He balanced on one foot, raising the other to shoo the dog down from the furniture. The dog obeyed and made room for him.

"She is really well-behaved and her tag says that her name's Grace and she was alone and she followed me all the way home and-" he babbled.

"You can't just bring home stray animals that you find in the street. It probably belongs to someone." Dean blinked and snorted in disbelief, baffled. He shoved his fork down into the box, swirled it around and pulled out long strings of noodles which he stuffed in his mouth.

"I couldn't just leave her!"

"If you want me here, then the dog's gotta go" he said with his mouth full. "I can take her to the police station tomorrow, and they'll handle it from there."

"No, Dean! We can't let her be locked away in a cage, scared and all alone" Cas exclaimed. He leaned forward and protectively pulled the dog closer to him, lifting her up in his lap. "Look- You've scared her, talking like that. We're not gonna leave you, Grace." He raked his fingers through her beige fur and scratched behind both her pointy ears so that she wagged her tail.

"Don't you see that you can't do stuff like this?" Dean dropped the fork into the box of food, and drew a hand down his jaw. "At least, you could have called me when you found it-"

"Her" Cas corrected him.

Dean sighed.

"Her... You should have called me so that I could have told you to turn her in right away." He resumed eating, eyes fixed on the piece of spicy chicken on the tip of his fork. "We need to tell each other stuff like this. Important stuff."

"Like Afghanistan."

Dean stopped chewing for a moment and they sat in silence. The only sound was that of Grace's excited breathing.

"Who told you about that?" Dean finally asked evenly.

"Sam."

Dean drew the palm of his hand down his jaw again, with a pensive expression, clearing his throat. Unconsciously he cleaned the corners of his mouth with the tip of his tongue.

"A few years back I had a phase where everything was pointless and I wanted to do something, you know... Make a difference, help people, fight the good fight."

Cas could hardly believe what he was hearing.

"Fight the good fight?" he repeated dubiously. Grace jumped down from his lap and began rolling around on the rug. "Dean- You were really cute, until you said that stupid crap. If you had wanted to help people you should have- oh I don't know- invented a cure for cancer or something like that. Not go overseas and kill innocent people!" All the while he ranted, he raised his voice; he almost shouted out the last words.

"Don't you think I know that!" Dean growled back and startled both Cas and Grace. Then he took a deep breath as he abandoned the fork in his food once again, rested his arm on his thigh and pinched the bridge of his nose with his free hand, squeezing his eyes shut. It looked like he was getting a headache or something. "Dammit. I'm not like you, Cas. I'm not smart or good. Fighting's all I know how to do. I fought for money- bets-..."

"And mechanics" Cas added, resoundingly. He didn't know why he said that. "You can do that too. I can't. I don't even know how to change a tire."

The conversation came to an abrupt halt and they were quiet for a while, merely staring at each other until Dean began smiling and chuckling. It caused Cas to do the same. Soon their smiles faded again.

"How was it...? War..."

"It was-..." Dean drew a sharp breath, looking away. He shifted in his seat and shook his head. His expression turned harsh. "It was hell. Hot and dusty and hard. And all those people- they were just-... Everyday when we went into enemy territory, I already considered myself a dead man." He leaned back against the couch, his eyes flickering around everywhere except to the left - to Cas. He looked tired. "It's hard coming back to life after being dead for so long."

Cas didn't say anything. It wasn't like he had any experience in that particular department and could give any uplifting advice or say something profoundly life-affirming and philosophical. It wasn't as if he could turn back time. So he merely watched the changes in Dean's face until he began eating again. He swallowed a mouthful and snorted.

"But seriously, man. The dog."

"Her name is Grace. Pretty name for a pretty girl." Cas shifted his eyes to Grace on the rug and smiled at her. She was wiggling around on her back, but when they looked at her, she stopped. She stared back at them, tongue hanging down towards the floor, up her face.

"Yeah, guess it is" Dean admitted, chewing another mouthful.

Cas pulled his legs up under him and curled his left arm in under the couch pillow by the armrest.

"I hope I'll find a strayed cat someday" he said, almost giggling at the thought.

Dean chuckled.

"You know cats are never strayed. They come and go as they please."

"Kind of like you then" he teased. He hoped Dean couldn't hear that he actually meant it.

Dean seemed to ignore him.

"You can keep the dog for a few days" he finally said, giving in to the irresistible charm of both Cas and Grace. "But we call the police tomorrow and ask if someone's reported a dog missing, and if someone steps forward and claims her, then you'll have to let her go."

Cas nodded eagerly, completely hooked on the thought of having a dog for at least a few days.

That night Grace slept like an angel, rolled up into a ball on the duvet cover by Dean's feet, and he didn't shoo her away. She stayed put until late in the morning when she suddenly woke up, jumped on Cas and carefully touched his face with her paw. He got up and walked her around the block, happily, with a provisional leash. When they came back he slid his record from the second hand store, onto the turntable and counted the trails in the vinyl until he found the song he wanted to hear.

_"There's a kind of hushhh... all over the world... tonight. All over the world, you can hear the sounds of lovers in love... You know what I mean!"_

He curled up in his corner of the couch with his homework and a quick, improvised brunch. Grace jumped up and warmed his feet, and he smiled at the nice feeling.

Dean didn't get up until midday, somewhere around the time when Cas was whipping out his best suit from the back of the closet. Although, "get up" might be an overstatement. At least it wasn't until then that Dean lifted his mushed face from the pillow, rubbed at his eyes before peeling them open, rolled over on his side and scooched up a little to lean on his elbow.

"Good afternoon" Cas greeted courteously. "You missed lunch."

"Oops" Dean chuckled. He was silent for a second and when Cas turned his head he found Dean watching him intently. "You going somewhere?" He nodded at the suit on the hanger in Cas' hand.

"I told you. My parents are making me go to this dinner thing." He sighed to himself and straightened the white shirt under the jacket, hanging it all on the door knob to the closet. "I don't suppose you'd want to come? Save me?"

Dean raised his eyebrows and joined his hands over his eyes.

"You're right. I don't."

He rolled over on his back and seemed to fall asleep again or something - Cas wasn't really sure, and he didn't care. At least he pretended not to care. He had known the answer even before he had asked the question, but he was still upset. So he simply resumed getting dressed. Pants, shirt, waistcoat, tie, jacket, cufflinks...

"You're tie ain't straight" Dean commented suddenly, shifting from lying flat on his back to half lying down, resting on his right elbow as he watched Cas.

"Yeah- well- Neither are you, so..." he retorted flatly without giving Dean as much as a glance while he pulled at the hem of his waistcoat which hugged his sides nicely.

He understood but he just couldn't drop it; Dean, not coming to this stupid dinner with him. He would have loved to see the realization dawn on his mother's face while everyone else greeted Dean as merely Cas' friend.

"I'll be right here when you get back" Dean assured him, trying to get back in his good grace, or something. His lips were pressed tightly together, wetted by his tongue as he waited for Cas to give in. "Me and Grace- We'll be right here."

Cas stopped fixing his clothes, giving out a low sigh, rubbing at his eyes. The only reason Dean pretended to get along with a dog was to ease Cas up.

"Unless you want to stay here instead...? I think I could make room for you" he teased, patting the mattress in front of him.

"You know I can't."

Dean shifted to lay on his back again.

"I know."

He rubbed harshly at his eyes, back and forth from side to side. Slowly he peered his eyelids apart with a scowl.

"My head pounds" he complained childishly. "I'm seeing stars. I need urgent medical attention."

"It's just the blood flow being re-routed behind your eyes." Cas made sure he had tucked his shirt down properly. "And I still can't blow off this dinner."

Suddenly, Dean jumped up on his knees and pulled Cas down on the bed with him, wriggling and screaming about how the suit would get wrinkled. Dean just laughed and held Cas tighter. His aversion went ignored and Dean finally shut him up by pressing their lips together, coaxing Cas' apart.

"Just-... Be home real soon, will ya" he finally said, followed by a deep breath, seemingly in an internal struggle with his own eagerness.

"I'll do my best" Cas responded with a crooked smile.

The window on the right hand side of the bed was open. The world was silent, almost as if holding its breath. A calm, late summer afternoon, shifting from green to orange. No one outside knew that they were lying there, bundled together. A cigarette rested in the golden brown glass ashtray on the windowsill, abandoned but not quite dead yet as it was tracing a thin ladder of smoke up... up... Dean must have been awake, smoking, while Cas was in the shower a few moments ago. One of Dean's mixtapes played in the living room, lowly humming some old rock tune. Gone, blurred out were all thoughts of the existing world outside their walls. There were only them.

"You okay?" Cas raked Dean's dark-blond hair back with his fingers. "You won't even know I'm gone."

Dean snorted and rolled his eyes.

"You think I'd ever forget you?" he asked. "Sorry, but it's just too late for that." The question was rhetorical but Cas answered it anyway.

"I hope you won't."

"No. Good. Because I won't. And you won't ever forget me, I know it. You're gonna miss me so damn much, you'll come running right back." Dean smirked and Cas wasn't sure if they were just talking about the dinner anymore.

"Yeah, well, you have this as consolation." He dangled the locket in front of Dean's face, the chain gleaming around Dean's neck. "Just don't get my photo all sticky" he added jokingly, blushing at his own boldness.

"Ain't making any promises 'bout that."

-

The dinner and the people were all just as boring as he remembered, and he spent the most part of the afternoon at his table, slouching in his chair, twirling paper napkins around his fingers until they fell apart. When the food had been eaten and the coffee had been finished off, he resumed his previous occupation. In boredom he sought out his mother in the crowd, mingling with some of the other women; wives of the patriarchy. Oh how he wished Dean had been there. Although, Cas felt a bit like a hypocrite; why should Dean come out with who he was, if Cas didn't? For a good ten minutes he tried to push himself into rising from his uncomfortable seat, walk up to his mother and speak his mind. It was about time - it really was, and it had been for quite a while. Every time he glanced over at Hannah next to him, talking and giggling at something his oldest brother Michael said, he felt it even more. Suddenly he did it. He stood up. The chair squeaked awkwardly against the ugly pale green linoleum floor of the church's biggest event room. His hands felt clammy, shaking, as he started to move his legs. Naomi caught sight of him, and it seemed as though she had read his mind. Her mouth turned into a straight, harsh line as he got closer, staring back at her. If she had dared, he knew she would have shook her head at him.

"Not now, Castiel" she said when he stopped by the group, waving him off.

"Yes. Now" he replied, insisting.

"Excuse me." She gave the other women a polite, apologetic smile before she turned on her heel. She wiped off her smile as she pulled Cas along out to the corridor. "This really isn't the time fo-"

"For what?" He was curious if she actually knew what he was bursting to say.

Naomi drew a deep breath. "For what ever shenanigan you're up to this time" she hissed. "You were always the well-behaved one. My little boy. I don't know what I did wrong."

Cas waited a while before he spoke, hoping that those few seconds would make her calm down. He really wanted everything to work out. She was his mother after all.

"You didn't do anything wrong. I just can't do it" he said, hoping she'd understand. "I can't be someone I'm not. All this-..." He gestured towards the church walls around them.

"You're so young" she interrupted. "You only think you know what you want, but you don't. There is still time. God is merciful to those who repent." She sounded so stern and determined that he nearly faltered, falling back in line through the cracks.

"But, mom-"

"It's a terrible life, Castiel." She stepped closer. She whispered now, voice suddenly unusually soft and caring and sad. "It's lonely. Do you want that? No friends. No family. No economic help from us. Hiding in shame for the rest of your life. You have a beautiful young woman out there." She nodded her head towards the door that led back into the ball room, increasingly raising and hardening her voice again. "You bring her home and make her yours, Castiel. Or else you don't have to bother coming back home yourself."

It hurt. He wanted to cry. But it wasn't her fault, Cas thought. Not really. She probably just wasn't equipped to love her human, church going, coffee drinking, normal, hard-working, medical student of a son, who happened to be in love with a man.

"I'm sorry you feel that way." He bit the inside of his cheek and muffled a trembling breath, trying to calm himself down. "But I am in love with someone already. A man."

"You're going to end up in hell, Castiel" she said with a pitying voice. "If you do this to us, you're no son of ours."

He gave her a few seconds to change what she had just said, but she didn't. Unwillingly, he swallowed the lump that had suddenly blocked his throat. He blinked and blinked and blinked in an attempt to stop his eyes from tearing up.

"Please" he begged. "Mom."

"If this is what you choose then you are dead to us" she said. He couldn't read her face. "You are forbidden to come by the house, call us, write to us, contact us in any way. I will pretend that you never existed."

It was a kick in the teeth and a punch to his stomach. He felt sick. Despite his best efforts, a tear escaped his eye. He reached for her but she took a step back.

"I'm not evil." He cried now.

"That's not up to me." She finally came closer, opening up her arms, and he clinged to her as if he was drowning. Eventually she wrenched him off of her, stepped back again and straightened her skirt. "Goodbye."

He didn't know how long he stood there after she had gone back inside. He didn't know how long before he wiped his face and managed to walk back in to grab his coat.

"Are you alright, Castiel?" Hannah asked worriedly, looking up at him from her seat. She placed a hand on his arm. "You look a little pale."

"Is it okay if Mike gives you a ride home? I don't feel so good" he said, excusing himself.

"Of course" Michael answered. Hannah merely nodded, her eyes fixed on Cas the whole time as he turned and walked back towards the door. Halfway there he saw Ace Jackson and the back of his mother. Cas slowed his steps as he caught the middle of their conversation.

"You go over there and say hello, at least" Mrs Jackson admonished her grown son. "After all, he is the son of-"

"I know, mom" Ace groaned in annoyance, trying to slither his way out of it. "But I don't want the disgusting little fag to get the wrong idea."

What he heard didn't shock him in the least; he was pretty sure they were talking about him, and Ace was a jackass. Cas, on the other hand, figured he couldn't possibly feel any worse, and so he didn't stop himself from answering Ace's dumb, homophobic comment before heading home. He had wanted to put him in his place for a long time.

"Don't flatter yourself, Ace. You're not that good-looking. And not taking 'no' for an answer is a straight-guy thing" he said, looking right into Ace's eyes.

He didn't wait for a reply, he just threw his coat on and continued out to his car in the parking lot behind the church. The heavy front door slammed shut behind him. He couldn't wait to go home and crawl into bed with the only good thing he had left.

 


	14. This roller-coaster is going to kill me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so nervous about this chapter. More than usual. It feels a little too much, but... *shrugs* ...that's how it is when your soul is crushed; a little too much.

Soon enough it was December again. Strange how fast the time can slip away when one's barely paying attention. Cas hardly couldn't stand it anymore; it chewed on his insides like bacteria, but he still tried his best to stitch his mouth shut, hold it in, keep it to himself. Although, as the weather grew colder so did he. The main thing that gave him never ending unease was the same thing he had carried around on his mind and on his tongue for a year. Even though he could see it in Dean's actions sometimes, he started to need it in words as well. But Cas' efforts to get it out of him were risky.

As it said in one of his books:

" _...like a loose thread on my favourite sweater I couldn't resist pulling - despite knowing it could all unravel around me._ "

As the question said:

_Do you love me?_

But it was too big a burden, too big a request - an obsecration, to say aloud. Because he loved Dean. Not in the way he loved his coffee, black, no sugar. Or the way he loved a few extra minutes of sleep in the morning, refusing to open his eyes, rolling away from the window to neglect the daylight its purpose. Or the way he loved thai food from the place down the street, chicken, noodles, spices that burned slightly. He loved him in a way he had never loved anyone or anything before - in a way that drained him, consumed him.

He had dreams. Bad ones. Nightmares. Sometimes they consisted of his father ripping him apart and turning him inside out. Sometimes they manifested as him trying to talk to Dean. But every time he opened his mouth, all that came out was oceans of water, pent up tears maybe, drowning him from the inside. Night after night, he woke up in a cold sweat. When Dean was there, snoring next to him, and their skin made contact, Cas was able to will himself to calm down enough to go back to sleep. The lonely nights with merely Dean's cold, empty mattress as a feble company, were all a little harder - Cas left stuff, books and papers and coffee mugs and his camera and pencils and bills and clothes, laying around on that side of the bed, making it feel a little more crowded.

It was a cold, snowy Saturday evening, a mere few days left of the year. It almost looked like he was gazing out at a storm, and it made him feel even more lonely, nestled under a blanket in the corner of the couch, his skin shivering from the sight. The apartment was dark, silent. Dean was out on a pub round with his friends. Nothing unusual. Cas often thought about Grace in times like these, which was alot. No one had claimed that beige and white little fur ball as theirs, so Dean had convinced him that it was for the best if she went to live with Sam and Jessica - Cas was too busy with school anyway, and Dean had his job.

Oh - he wasn't supposed to take the lord's name in vain, but - God, he was bored! Or maybe just lonely. And cold, yes, definitely cold. He wanted coffee, but it felt a little stupid to make a whole pot for just one person. Maybe he was merely itching for some company. On a whim, he fished up his phone from somewhere under the blanket, clicked his way to Meg's number, and slipped further down in his seat until he was lying on his back. He looked at the ten digits, counted and named them, both forwards and backwards a few times, while rolling around on the couch for a moment. Did he want to spend another evening alone, or did he want to get mildly harassed?

" **Are you in jail? If not, do you have time for coffee?** " he finally wrote and sent. The first half of the text message had obviously been intended as a joke, but he wasn't sure how to interpret Meg's answer.

" **On probation. There in 5.** "

She was wrong; it only took four minutes before she barged right in without knocking. Completely normal. Cas actually felt a little relieved. The new ' _friend_ ' on his parents payroll, Hannah, had proven to be torture compared to Meg - torturously boring.

Meg went straight for the kitchen and started filling up the coffee machine with water. He peeked over the back of the couch for a moment before he stood up and tiptoed over to her. Still wrapped in his blanket, he leaned his upper body over the counter and watched Meg's hands move around as if it was a ritual.

"Don't you know that when you invite someone over for coffee, you're supposed to have it ready when they show up" she sighed. Oh how he had missed that annoyed tone of voice.

"You're a minute early." He was quiet for a second. "So... Did you shank anyone? In prison, I mean" he finally asked, curiously. Meg peered her eyes at his choice of words, questioningly. "I've been watching a little too much TV" he explained quickly, with a wave of his hand as if saying it was nothing to concern oneself with.

"Er- No, I was mostly chained to a desk, actually." She counted each spoon as she filled up the machine with dark coffee powder. "They let me go after about half an hour. Over-crowding, or some shit. Apparently, I'm not a big enough fish for them." She snorted with a grin and pressed the translucent plastic button on the side of the coffee maker. It lit up red.

As soon as they had landed on the couch with their mugs, and Cas had taken his first sip, he drew a deep, unsatisfied breath, pulling the blanket closer around him.

"I need something stronger" he said, glaring down at his coffee which hadn't even cooled down yet.

"You're kidding me" she sighed, rolling her eyes. "Drink up the fucking coffee that I fucking made for you- and you fucking enjoy it too." She took a few pulls and swallowed audibly. "We can get drunk when you're done."

It didn't take long before they finished their coffee, nodded at each other, stood up, got their jackets and went out. They followed the snowy pavement down to the nearest pub, opened the door and stepped into a place with dimmed lighting from behind lampshades of green glass domes, dark wooden interior and burgundy leather couches. Cas took a seat at a table by one of the windows while Meg headed for the bar. His eyes followed her for a second before he let it flicker around along the rest of the bar, stopping at a gang with three young men and a girl at the right end. They had their backs towards him, but he still recognized them - especially the brown leather jacket in the middle.

"I got us a couple of shots and a highball each." Meg sat down opposite of him, placed a tray of full glasses between them on the dark tabletop and swept a seethrough shot without blinking."Get to drinking" she prodded him on.

He slowly picked up a shot, suddenly a bit reluctant to this whole drinking idea - even though it was his own plan. His eyes searched the translucent liquid as he held up the glass in eye-level, dragging out the unevitable. It wasn't at all what he had had in mind, but he suddenly caught sight of Dean in his brown leather jacket through the glass, watching that grin which he knew so well, digging deep into those scruffy cheeks, the green eyes sparkling, peered at the two other guys on his left. Lisa Braeden leaned forward over the bartop on Dean's right hand side, lovingly intertwining her fingers with his. She was all shiny dark hair and long legs, and Cas felt so envious. If he had looked like her-...

He lowered the glass from his face, absentmindedly, his eyes still on the people by the bar. It took a while before he noticed Meg staring at him with that annoyed expression of hers, arching an eyebrow, and he caught himself sitting with his mouth half open, shot in hand raised halfway to his lips.

"This is our night, angel" Meg snorted teasingly. "Forget about loverboy for one second."

"Sorry" he murmured with a glance down into his glass, one side of his mouth curling upwards. He finally obliged and emptied the shot he had held between his fingers for probably a good five minutes, scrunching up his face as the liquid trickled down in his throat, scoarching. Meg nodded once, appreciatively. Still, something uneasy churned around in his stomach when he, in the corner of his eye, watched Dean hang his arm over Lisa and throw his head back as he laughed with their friends. He looked so carefree and different as he finished off another whiskey shot with a smug grin, slamming the tiny glass back down on the bar up side down with a whole crowd of empty shot glasses. He somehow seemed to try and make himself bigger around his friends, and Cas understood - he just didn't like it. He knew that he didn't have the right nor the cause to be jealous, because he knew what this was. It was the act. It was the deal he had made. He could have said no and driven Dean away, but it would have been so much worse to feel this way and know that he would have to sleep alone. So he let Dean keep up his little heterosexual charade, his straight ritual; at least that way Cas got to have him to himself every other night. At least he knew that Dean cared for him too, one way or another. But it still hurt.

Cas bottomed his second shot and squeezed his eyes shut tightly, involontarily. His clothes felt itchy, causing him to undo the topbutton on his light blue shirt with one hand, while small pearls of sweat surfaced on the skin at the back of his neck. The rest of the night continued pretty much in the same manner. The two kept drinking, and Cas' eyes flickered around the room from time to time when he wasn't willing himself to keep them on Meg instead. One second, sometime when he had started to get too drunk to keep track of events, Dean and his friends had disappeared, and Cas' heart raced when he finally noticed it.

Too soon, the clock passed by two thirty am. Meg helped Cas get safely back to his apartment, faltering and slurring. He didn't remember how he got to bed or how he had managed to get his clothes off, but he awoke in merely his briefs, lying on his stomach. There was a bucket on the floor next to him with an attached note saying "USE ME" and a glass of water on his nightstand with another note saying "DRINK ME". Cas felt like crap with his head pounding and his eyes full of grit from a thousand deserts and his stomach which had turned into a screaming pit, but he still smiled at the notes, guessing it was Meg who had written them. He didn't feel that he needed to use the puke bucket, but he gratefully emptied the glass.

Suddenly, he remembered Dean at the bar. The memory hit him like a ton of bricks on a speeding train and made him feel a little sick - maybe he would need the bucket after all. Dean and Lisa's hands together on the bartop, his arm around her shoulders, pulling her closer, gently. When Cas had seen them kiss, he had quickly turned his eyes the other way, swallowing the imaginary lump in his throat, furrowing his brows, breathing steadily, holding the tears back, taking another big gulp of his highball.

He forced the thought away and picked up his phone from the nightstand instead. The clock showed that he had slept more than seventeen hours, and it made him feel bad to have missed a whole day. He had one missed call and two text messages. Habitually, he slid his thumb over the screen and unlocked it. Dean had been trying to get ahold of him at four twenty-two am, apparently. He didn't know how he felt about it. Obviously, he wished he had been awake to answer, but he had been too drunk to even remember getting home.

One text was from Meg who wanted to know if he was alive.

" **Not that I care** " she had written at the end. He snorted with a grin at the words; typical of her to pretend like she wasn't at all emotionally invested in anything.

The second message was surprisingly enough from Hannah. An image of peering eyes under brown bangs popped up in his head.

" **Hello Castiel.** " Formal as ever. " **Would you be interested in having coffee with me some day?** " Cas choked on the air he was inhaling and coughed to get it right, then he sighed and groaned irritably as he rolled over on his back on the scrunched up sheets. His mother was behind this - clear as day. Evidently, he wasn't the only one who had to endure her commands. The thought made him feel a little bad for Hannah; she hadn't asked to get involved in Naomi's infernal matchmaking.

The front door to his flat slammed shut and startled him, causing him to sit up with his back against the headboard. He quietly put the phone away on the nightstand again, and for a few seconds he was completely still, listening to footsteps drawing closer out in the living room.

"Oh- Hey! You awake. How ya doing?" Dean stumbled into the bedroom and came to a halt when he saw Cas. "I was here earlier but you were just- all knocked out." He snorted with a grin. "Had fun last night?"

Cas exhaled and rubbed at his eyes. He wasn't sure what to answer so he merely bit his lip and moved his head a little in some sort of a nod.

"Meg came over" he finally managed to say. "We went out."

"Good" Dean said with a short nod, looking surprised. Cas knew why; he wasn't the type to go out all that much.

In three long steps, Dean went around the bed and crashed on the right side of it, half laying down, leaning on his elbow. He raised his left arm and reached out to stroke his thumb along Cas' cheek, but Cas turned his face away in a silent rejection, leaving Dean's hand hanging in the air for a moment before it fell to the mattress. Dean exhaled audibly - he could probably tell that something was coming.

"We were there- um- at that bar down the street" Cas said casually. He did his best to control his wobbly, tremulous voice, as he looked down at his hands. A thread had come loose from the end of the cover case. He tried to hold it still and rip it off. "And you were there-... and Lisa Braeden." He wanted to make it sound like it wasn't that big of a deal, but he heard the accusation in his own voice. "She's really pretty." Dean sighed with a grunt.

"Dammit, Cas" he said between gritted teeth, rolling over and resting his occiput against the headboard, squeezing his eyes closed in frustration. They had been over this before - Dean didn't have to say that. But this time something felt different.

"You're never going to leave her" Cas said under his breath, and it felt like an affirmation, set in stone the second he said it. It burned his heart just to think about Dean loving someone else. But he had to remind himself that love sometimes means letting go.

Dean suddenly looked at Cas and hurled himself towards him, wrapping his arms around him and holding him in a firm grip so that he couldn't get away. His strong hands and rough shirt burned on Cas' naked skin, making him warm and flustered.

"Cas" he said in a low, husky voice, beckoning him into a - sadly enough false - sense of security and solace. A hand went up into his messy, dark hair and gripped it, holding him still. "Cas."

A lot of people can say your name. It's not hard. When they got all the letters, all they have to do is spell it out. But there is maybe only one person in your whole lifetime who can make it sound special, heavenly - that is, if you're lucky enough to find that one person at all. Dean could turn those same three letters into something entirely new with unforced sincerity. If only this could be enough.

"I'm angry at you, Dean" Cas exclaimed lowly, his face pressed to Dean's chest. He refused to glance up at him, and he knew he was acting childishly, but he didn't care. What had he expected, really? That Dean wasn't shoving his tongue down his girlfriend's throat, regardless of if it was to prove a point to his buddies or not? "I'm furious."

_But I still love you._

They made love that night. None of them admitted it, but that was what it was. Cas tried to make Dean go faster, harder, desperate to make him understad. But Dean pushed deep into him, excruciatingly slowly, still holding him steadily, unwavering. Something felt wrong, final. He didn't know if he would ever have a child of his own, but in this moment he found himself praying that his daughter or son would never have to know what a goodbye-kiss felt like.

When Dean had fallen asleep on his stomach, arms under his pillow, Cas felt his own stomach roar so he pulled on his briefs, tiptoed out into the living room and over to the fridge in the kitchen. As he chewed on a pear, he caught sight of Dean's jacket in the corner of his eye. A minute later he sank down on the couch, legs bent up in front of him, wearing the brown, leathery thing. He hadn't planned it but soon the big jacket and the familiar scent comforted him as his walls burst. Slow, heavy tears trickled down his face, muffled cries barely escaped his aching chest, causing his shoulders to shake.

Sleep had overpowered him without him noticing, and the early sunlight woke him from his shallow slumber on the suddenly extremely hard and uncomfortable sofa. He sat up, yawning, before he carefully put the jacket back on the hanger by the door and went to bed, slipping down under the cover with his back towards Dean, eyes too full of grit to refuse going back to sleep.

Dean was gone when he woke up again. The alarm on his phone reminded him that it was Monday and time for church, and he felt sick, feverish and cold all at the same time just thinking about having to go. When the signal went off for the fourth time he groaned at it and sat up, reluctantly. After the whole ritual of showering, getting dressed and forcing down a dry sandwich, he walked out the door where the stairwell met the ground floor, instead of continuing down to the garage as he usually would. While gray snow-sludge gobbled under his shoes, he pondered over why exactly he had chosen to walk and not drive - as long as he had had a license and a car, he had driven. Since today was going to be the first encounter with his mother after the outburst at the dinner in August, he was a little nervous, and he guessed he just needed a change in his normal routines.

Suddenly he noticed the Impala sweep past him in the street, pulling to a stop at the crossing and stopligts right by him. A blatant, 80's rock song howled out through the rolled down windows. If he had had time to collect his thoughts he would have frowned at the idea of someone rolling down their windows in the winter, but his mind didn't get that far since it wasn't just any old car and it certainly wasn't just any driver. He knew that Dean didn't want him to acknowledge him when they were out in public - eyecontact was a bad, bad thing, very bad, dangerous even. But for some reason it was like a trainwreck and Cas couldn't look away. Before he could stop himself he had forgotten that he was supposed to press the button at the crossing, and raised one hand in some sort of gesture to Dean instead. Dean's posture stiffened slightly in the driver's seat when he noticed Cas out on the pavement with his hand awkwardly in the air. He threw one glance at Lisa in the passenger seat and the others in the back of the car... and Cas was screwed. He could feel it happening before it had actually happened. Dean turned his green stare back at him, clenched his fists harder around the wheel and hid the hurt in his eyes.

"Hey, Dean-o!" a buff guy in the back exclaimed. He nodded pointedly at Cas and made a face.

"You gonna pick up the queer, Winchester?" the other, scrawny guy in the back teased.

Dean seemed a little unsure what to answer, but it didn't last long. He turned to them with his right arm up on the back of the bench front seat, raised his brows and smirked.

"Hey! I don't swing that way" he replied over his shoulder. Then he placed his arm around Lisa's shoulders and pulled her closer. "But if you guys want him, I guess we could squeeze him in back there with you." His deep voice rumbled, chuckling a low, fake laugh. The stoplight changed back to green and Dean threw one short inexplicit glance Cas' way before he stepped on the gas and drove off.

Cas shut down. Incredible, really, how he hadn't done it earlier. He went to church, he sat quiet all through the sermon, said his polite goodbyes to the people who were supposed to be his family, and walked home. He made lunch, ate, tried to focus on the words in his school text books for a while, but failed miserably when his mind jumbled everything together. When Dean came by after work the winter had already turned the sky dark outside and Cas was still rolled into a stiff ball on the couch, staring out the windows. He clenched his jaw and outweighed his words when he heard Dean step inside and close the door.

"You shoulda seen the bike that came in today!" he said excitedly, kicking his shoes off. "It was awesome!"

"Dean."

"Hey! We got anything edible? I could go for some thai." The refrigerator door opened and closed.

"I can't do this anymore."

"And I get to have my hands on that beauty! Can't wait to take her for a test run! Just gotta fix up the fan belt and the cooler." He came around the couch, sipping on a beer and was just about to sit down. "What?"

"It's over."

Some silences are louder than other silences. So much louder than any noise could ever be. They can drag out a few seconds into minutes, effortlessly. The deafening thing that spread out between them now, and slowly began suffocating Cas, was one of those silences.

"No."

"Dean-"

"You don't mean that." Dean tried to smile but the small movement was crooked, faltering, shallow, diaphanous. It didn't reach his eyes.

"It's over."

"Cas- You know, if your family's said something- They don't deserve you anyway. Hell, I don't deserve you. But whatever it is- We can fix it."

"No, Dean, it's no-"

"I got no idea how" he interrupted. "But what I do have is a hell of a temper, and I'm gonna make this work. Cas. I'm gonna make us work."

Cas sighed, squeezing his eyes shut.

"Go home to Lisa" he said evenly. There was no point in using a whole bunch of words, explaining. He just needed to do this so that he could bury himself in bed and get on with the grieving.

"Lisa who?" Dean replied quickly, trying to sound casual. Of course he knew who Cas was talking about.

"Your girlfriend."

"No."

"Yes."

"I'd rather have you."

Cas dragged out on it a little before answering, savoring the inner image of a false future which they could never have together.

"You don't mean that."

"I do mean that."

He was silent for a second more - he really wanted to believe Dean, but it was just too much. That's when he said it. He knew he had to, or else Dean would never quit him.

_I don't want to do this. Please, don't force me to do this. I wish circumstances were different. I wish we were braver. I wish I was stronger. I wish you'd come with me to the market, daring to hold my hand. I wish I could show everyone that I'm your and you're mine. I wish I could wake up next to you every morning for the rest of my life._

"I don't need you."

Dean pursed his lips.

"Stop saying crap you don't mean" he persisted, his timbre rumbling around deep down in his chest. Cas stood up from the couch and faced Dean even though he didn't dare. He feared that seeing Dean would change his mind. He clenched his jaw and blinked a few times, steadfast.

"You will never change. You will never admit your-... love... I'd have to stay your secret forever. I can't-... I can't live like that- like this-... anymore." He swallowed. "This roller coaster is going to kill me if I don't get off."

Dean suddenly looked ashamed and hurt and something else as well. A part of Cas thought that it wasn't more than right; he deserved to feel what he had done to him. But the biggest part of Cas was hurting too when he saw what his words did to Dean. At first Dean wouldn't even meet his eyes with his own now dull and bleak green ones. Instead he stretched himself tall and placed his hands in the pockets of his jacket, shrugging a shoulder, lips parted to speak, but Cas beat him to it.

"I usually distance myself from people." He willed himself to stand still, to not cry and beg and scream and kick something. This was what was right. This was his own doing. He couldn't take any more and he couldn't give Dean a chance to really change his mind. "They always disappoint and leave anyway. But I didn't do that this time. Because I really-... I really wanted you."

Dean didn't move; he looked like he had shut off or something, and Cas crumpled, shoulders falling, his whole posture drooping. It wasn't fair. He bit the inside of his cheek, disgusted by his own helpless whimpering. This was his own doing. His. Then why was he so unsure and weak? He could feel his orbitofrontal cortex malfunctioning, like when something breaks in a cartoon and it starts shooting electric sparks, springs and screw-nuts flying all over the place.

"I need you" Dean said. His voice was lower than usual, harder, and there was a hint of desperation in him, but Cas didn't know how to interpret any of it. He knew that those three words were hard for him to say, but it wasn't enough; he needed Dean too, but Dean never seemed to understand just how much. "Say it back, man" he demanded, trying to toughen himself up. He barely moved a muscle, jaw clenched. "You're supposed to say it back." A tear slipped down his cheek, caressed his jaw and dripped from his chin.

Something broke in Cas.

"It's over."

"It's not right" he murmured to himself. The mumbling turned into gritting teeth, something indefinable showing in his eyes. "Cas, don't-... Don't do this. It's-... It's not right-"

"You need to leave now." The most ordinary combination of words proved to be the hardest five word sentence Cas had ever uttered, and he tried to sound firm, determined.

"No" Dean roared, so suddenly that Cas almost jumped out of his skin. "You can't-"

"What? I can't what?" he demanded to know, raising his voice out of anger or out of sorrow - he wasn't exactly sure which feeling was overpowering the other, but he couldn't afford to let the sadness in him win. So he put up a wall and willed himself to remember why he was doing this. "You want to fag bash some more in front of your friends first? Before you throw me aside?" He sounded cruel, taunting, and he had never heard that harshness in his own voice before. It scared him to the point where he almost flinched, but he knew that it was the only way. "Even the state says it's okay to be gay- You're just too chicken to be honest about who you are!"

For a second it looked like Dean was going to come at him, but Cas didn't step back. Nothing was going to scare him anymore; not his memories, not his parents, not the old women down at the farmers market who always gave him weird looks when he walked by.

The two men merely stood there, in the hall, bathing in dull light, staring at each other. One had desperation in his eyes, the other - determination. How could the right thing feel so wrong?

It all happened so fast after that, and Cas barely percieved when Dean left the apartment. Only the non-existent echo of the slammed door stayed behind with him and the silence, plunging him into an abyss.

New year's eve came and went quietly a few days later. Meg tried to reach him a couple of times, but he didn't feel like talking or seeing anyone. School started again, and Cas wasn't sure what he was doing. All he ever seemed to occupy himself with was sleep, even though he did normal stuff too. He was tired all the time, and sleeping felt good, forgetting everything for a little while. He went to bed when he got home, but when he opened his eyes again he was back in school. It was like a never-ending treadmill. He went to the grocery store, he went to the bank, he went to the bookstore and bought thick mass market bestsellers to busy his mind when he sat down in the laundry room. He sometimes had decent lunches down at the grill, burgers and pie mostly, doodling on napkins. Minutes turned to hours and days turned into weeks. Soon enough he began neglecting his studies, and when he was out on residency, shadowing doctors around at the hospital, the letters on his notes began floating around, confusing his mushy brain substance even more. He started having a hard time remembering things, and he got a whole bunch of text messages from his father every week, saying that he wasn't happy at all with what Cas' teachers told him about his son's decreasing progress. Meg had once called it "overprotectiveness" - Cas called it micromanaging captivity, also known as his life.

He had read that the brain will shut itself down if there is too much pain or trauma. He wasn't really sure how it was with his own. One moment he was completely paralyzed and the next he was drowning, smothered by giant waves of memories and love and longing and hurt. He was sick of the tears and the endless rivers of snot and the panicked gasping due to clogged airways and stinging clutches of pain in the vicinity of the heart and aching eyeballs, among a million other things. Dean was like a malignant tumor on him, proliferating uncontrollably, invading everything around him. Even when he wasn't around. And Cas knew that the brain was designed to keep him alive. Nothing more, nothing less. It didn't give a shit about his happiness.

The room was dark. Cas couldn't remember what date or day it was. He lay on his back, plastered to the damp sheet in his bed, soaked with panic sweat from another nightmare. In a tiny moment of clarity he glanced over at the bookcases just before hurling himself at them, yanking a book out on random and returning with it to the bed. Books had, as said, always calmed him down. Thinking of something else might be a good idea. But did he really want the pain to go away? Did he really want to forget it for a moment? The pain was, after all, the only thing reminding him that Dean had ever even really been there - that and the fragrant, chequered shirt he had left behind.

He sat down, melted together with the mattress and pulled the cover over him again. The book rested on his duvet-clad thighs, red and inviting. A collection of poems and short stories. He hesitated for a second before he opened it - with his two other options being 1) throwing the book away and resuming his lonely thougths, or 2) straining himself to get out of the warm bed again and go get another book, he prefered to take his chances with the one he now held in his hands.

" _Flat Of Angles..._ " he read to no one when he had flipped the book open on random. Damn. Not that one. But he was a bit of a masochist, apparently, because he continued reading.

_Flat Of Angles by Simon Cleary._

_I'll miss you. I'll miss our walks, trying to pretend we are in perfect step._

Golden green, sparkling orbs, lined by dark lashes. Pink, pouty lips, wetted by a - then - longing tongue. A deep smile that dug into soft cheeks, creating matching crinkles at the sides of the eyes. An unshaved, chiseled jaw, stroked by nervous fingers. Shadows on skin, from the sun's rays, partially covered by bare tree branches.

_Out of step now, sick on the floor, out of the room, fenced in, trapped._

He threw the book away, letting it crash against the boxes before falling to the floor. It landed wide open, down into the boards with one of the pages crushed against the wood. He slid down entirely under the cover, pulling it tighter around him, trying to fall asleep before the panic attacks started all over again.

At least he and Dean were under the same sky. A feeble fucking comfort.


	15. Blue eyes crying in the rain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so ALOT happens in this chapter - don't be alarmed, but I cried a little when I wrote the end of it, so my goal is that you'll do the same hehehe. But... just hang in there! And give me your comments!

He crashed on the couch with his legs up and offhandedly popped the cap off his beer with his teeth. When Sam entered the living room, Dean had just lost count on how many bitter sips he had gulped down.

"Wha- What are you doing here, Dean?" Sam furrowed his brows.

"Just got off work." He took another sip as he stared straight ahead at nothing, angling the glass bottle bottom up.

"Yeah, I figured as much. I mean-..." Sigh.

"Cat got your tongue?"

"You know, it's no problem... that you're here." Sam looked himself over in the reflection of the window, raking his fingers back through his shoulder-length hair. He pulled at the sleeves of his fancy shirt.

Dean caught himself thinking that the window wasn't nearly as big and most likely not  even half as expensive as the ones in Cas' living room. The sun had started to set outside but it didn't glisten like it did through the glass in Cas' flat.

"Yeah. 'Course it ain't."

"It's just that it's... You know, it's mine and Jess' anniversary." He waited for the coin to drop in Dean's head, but nothing happened. "I'm taking her out to dinner."

"Great plan."

"That means I can't stay here and babysit you."

"Then don't."

"So if you could go home... to your place...?"

"Thought you said you were going out."

"Dean-..."

"Oh, you're bringing her back here to score! Of course. Good job, Sammy."

"Dean."

Quietly, he ignored Sam's subtle request. He finished his beer and opened another one with his teeth. In this rate, he would have to start seeing a dentist.

"You need to get yourself together."

"I'm fine, Sam."

"Is something wrong between you and Lisa?"

Dean clenched his jaw.

"I can't remember the last time you saw her. I mean, 'cause you're here all the time, so-"

"Maybe I don't tell you everything, puppy."

"Why don't you call her?" He suddenly sounded hesitant. "Ask her out."

"Why? She knows what's up."

"Well... To some, love isn't real unless they acknowledge it in front of others. I just think it's worth showing you care, from time to time. It wouldn't hurt you." Sam moved on to fixing his bow tie. "I guess it's really just all about what one's prepared to do for the person they love." He shrugged his shoulders with a quick smile.

His brother's words only reminded Dean of one person and it wasn't Lisa. With a straight face he swallowed the lump in his throat down along with another mouthful of beer. He refused to let Sam see that this touchy feely crap got to him.

"That thing makes you look like a little bitch." He nodded at Sam's bow tie.

"Jerk."

"No, seriously. You look like you're going to your first prom."

Sam looked down at himself and pensively flattened the shirt down on his chest with one hand. Then he sighed and pulled at the bow tie until it unraveled again.

"Double jerk."

 

* * *

 

Cas made a decision when March crossed over into April.

He stepped out of Sam's car and got a kind, almost pitying smile from Sam through the window as he closed the door. They had been friends for a while now, and sometimes Sam had that look on his face as if he knew. But maybe he just looked all-around caring all the time.

The snow had almost melted away completely, and as he walked towards the tall old building, he strained himself as much as he could to not step in the puddles. He had already talked to Mr Balthazar Smith on the phone, so this shouldn't take that long, which was good because his stomach roared and Sam had said that Jessica was waiting for them.

Hannah met up with him when he came in through the big bronze doors. Just like Sam, she didn't have a clue as to why Cas was moping, but she still always looked like she wanted to give him a hug.

Cas walked the halls to his locker, opened it and began shoving all his stuff into his bag. Hannah tagged along and talked about how boring it was going to be in school without him. He nodded and hummed from time to time so that she would think he was listening. All he really tried to do was keep Dean out of his head. It was a never-ending, daily struggle. They were strangers now. No point in thinking any more about him. But it was so hard to stop. Everything reminded of him. Even these hallways and the school's cafeteria reminded of him.

"Oh" Hannah suddenly uttered, making Cas turn his head towards her. She was watching something and Cas followed her stare.

Dean.

She was watching Dean.

And Dean met Cas' eye for a painful second.

Strangers don't look at each other like that.

He felt sick. Why did Dean still insist on getting his lunch in the cafeteria at Cas' school? He really was too old to be there; he didn't even go to school - he worked at a garage, for Christ's sake. Cas caught himself thinking things he had never cared about before. He even wished Dean to just go away, vanish from the face of the earth. It would have been easier if he could just-

"Isn't he dreamy?" Hannah mumbled in a sigh.

Cas muttered something incoherent as he slammed the locker shut, turned away and continued to walk, carelessly grazing a wall with his upperarm as he steered by a corner.

"But I heard he's dangerous. A real heartbreaker." She hurried on, catching up with him.

At least she was right about one thing.

A few moments later he was on his way out the bronze doors again. Balthazar had looked at him and said things like "Are you sure studying from home is the best thing for you?" and then also "We're going to miss you..." when he had understood that there was no changing Cas' mind. If Cas didn't need new books and notes from teachers, he never would come back to this place at all. It all stort of felt like it was fading out of him. But since he had little over a year left, he figured he might as well endure it until graduation - just not around other people day in and day out.

His legs felt heavy all the way from the school building to the driveway where Sam's car was parked still, the tall Winchester waiting behind the wheel. Cas opened the passenger door, sank down in the seat next to Sam and attempted to smile. He didn't feel very convincing.

"You got everything you need?" Sam asked as Cas buckled his seat belt. He nodded once, and Sam turned the key in the ignition, blinked out and gently stepped on the gas.

"What have you been up to today?" Cas felt like he should at least try and make conversation.

Sam's cautious expression faltered and softened slightly.

"I got another case."

Cas nodded and continued. Maybe he did remember how to talk to people.

"What kind of case?"

"Can't talk about it" he said briefly, apologetically. "It's confidential."

Cas nodded again. It felt like it was best to leave it at that, so he obliged and changed the subject.

"Thank you for waiting... by the way" he said with a gravelly voice before clearing his throat.

"Of course I waited" Sam replied, smiling, obviously concerned. "You're having dinner with us tonight. So! You talked to Jess last. Did she say what she's making?"

"It's confidential" Cas joked dryly, repeating Sam's answer. He didn't find it very funny, but at least Sam grinned.

Jessica was an angel as always. Baked potato, steamed vegetables and slow cooked beef stew stood on the table when Sam and Cas got there. Cas ate even though his starving stomach turned and he felt sick. He didn't say much but Sam had gotten used to it - sometimes Cas wondered why they kept inviting him.

After dinner they insisted that he'd stay for a glass of wine, and he could never say no to Jessica. But then he thanked for the food, said that he had alot of homework, and left. Sam had wanted to drive him home, but he turned down the offer, saying he liked to walk.

He slept just as restlessly that night as all nights before. He twisted and turned in his sleep, and woke up every other hour, confused and with clammy skin. When the sun began to rise, Cas quit trying to force himself to fall back asleep. Sometime around noon there was a quick knock on the door before Meg barged in.

"You knocked" Cas commented flatly, barely throwing a glance her way.

"Yeah, so?"

"You never knock."

"Can't a girl be a little polite when she wants to? I just thought maybe you were lying in here, deceased, or something." She went to the kitchen and looked through the refrigerator. "I don't feel like doing jailtime, Clarence. Especially not for something I didn't do." Empty-handed she went around the couch and sat down next to him with a loud sigh. "You can't blaim a poor mama bear for being- not _concerned_ , but curious." Meg kept her eyes on Cas and waited for him to say something, but he stayed silent and didn't even move his stare from the window. "So this is all you're up to? Laying here like a vegetable." Still no answer. "Has someone been mean to you, Cucumber? You want me to stab them in the face, Sparrow-Grass?"

"I broke up with him."

"Oh." Meg raised her eyebrows, pursed her lips to herself, and scooched down in her seat. "Well, I've heard drinking helps."

"You want to know why?"

"Why drinking helps?"

"No-"

"Not really. I just wanna drink." She scratched her neck absentmindedly, stretching her arm out in a wide triangle as she did so. "Or did you get enough the last time?" she asked teasingly, snorting once. "Fucking amateur."

"If this is you trying to cheer me up, then don't."

"Don't worry. I don't care 'bout your feelings, Clarence. Or about what you want" she replied with her toffee-like voice, speaking slowly as if to an ignorant child. "We're gonna drink 'til we can't feel feelings at all, because I want to have fun. Not because I'm trying to make you feel all warm and fuzzy." She was completely translucent, as always, but Cas didn't say anything. "We can even do the pre-party here if that makes you feel better about it."

There was another long silence while Cas considered the offer. He didn't have anything better to do - he did have a leaning tower of school books in his bed, but they could wait. Nothing exciting had happened for a long time, so maybe it was time something did.

"Okay."

"Really? Great." Meg sat up straight and looked at him. "You got any booze?"

He hesitated, going through his visual memory of the fridge.

"No..."

"Then you're gonna have to get us some." She stood up, ruffled his dark hair with one hand, and moved off towards the door. "Yep. You do that. Deal. I need to see an old friend. I'll be back later. I promise I'll contribute with something fun for our little party."

The door slammed shut behind her when she left.

He stayd in the same position for a while, not wanting to get up. The windows were a little dusty and greasy in a few places, he saw that now after staring so long, but he couldn't find it in him to care.

An hour and a half later he had finally managed to muster up enough strength to take the car a few blocks through town. The bottles clanged together in the two plastic bags he held in each hand as he walked down the street from the store, back to his car. It was, after all, the weekend, so he had had to find a parking spot a block away from the liquor store. When he was halfway there, he started to smell rain hanging in the air.

"Hey...! Cas!"

He didn't want to turn around, but it was too late because he had already stopped walking, and so he drew an extra breath when he turned towards the sound of the familiar voice, finally resting his eyes upon Dean again after so many months. He looked just as charismatic, magnetic, electric as always; the uncontainable man who made every woman's head spin when he walked into a room - the guy everyone stood up to talk to. But there was something tired about him now, something vague, faded. His green eyes were droopy, his hair was messy, and his scruff had almost started to turn into a short beard. From nowhere, Cas got a sense that Dean was a man torn between being the person everyone expected him to be, and missing out on all the opportunities that life could offer the magnificent man he really was. Maybe it would all turn out like in those stories where love and courage won out in the end. Maybe. But he doubted it.

Cas forced his suddenly speeding heart back into its cage and got his mind back on track.

"Smells like rain" Dean said as he looked up at the sky with his hands in his side pockets.

"Rain doesn't smell. It's a scent from an oil that plants produce during drought. When it's about to rain, the plants release the oil into the air. Hence the scent" he babbled nervously. There was a long silence.

"How you doing?"

Seriously? After everything, and _now_ he asked how Cas was? He refused to reply. Maybe it was childish, but he felt like Dean had lost the right to know how he was, a long time ago.

"Okay..." Dean cleared his throat. "I was wrong, Cas" he said, biting the bullet when the silence seemed to become too much for him.

"Please, Dean. Leave it-"

"No, dammit. Let me say this. I was a jerk to you, and I'm a coward... And I was freckin' wrong." He suddenly looked positively exhausted, staring at Cas, wide-eyed, begging him for some hope, jaw clenched tightly.

Cas looked around at all the people passing by them without giving them as much as a sideways glance. Was Dean really going to do this? Here? Around all these people with ears to hear and minds to judge?

"Look- I'm scared as hell-..." He stepped closer and lowered his voice so that only Cas would hear. "-wanting you... But I've realized that... the alternative-..." He bit his teeth together, hard, as if he needed a push to say what was on his tongue. Cas knew how much he disliked saying these kind of things outloud. "It hurts too freckin' much. I mean- You frustrate the living hell outta me sometimes! But I think about you _all the time_..."

Cas didn't know what to say. He thought of how he had been anxious about all of this from the start. He had wondered if Dean was going to turn on him, and he had been right for questioning him. But then he had given in, and now he had learned the hard way that he had been a fool for trusting anyone. He just didn't think he would survive another round of this. His mother had been right. Years ago, when he was little, she had always whispered warnings about how his life would lack love. Security. Comfort. Happiness. She told him to be cautious, and he always were. But Dean was strong. Cas was not. All of a sudden he had forgotten his mother's inculcated admonitions.

"Hell, I even _prayed_... Cas" Dean continued when he didn't get a response. He chuckled with a nervous, melancholy grin on his face, raking his hand back through his dark-blond hair, now damp from the first drops of rain. "To that God of yours. Do you even get how messed up that is for me?" He waited for Cas to say something.

_You were never supposed to mean this much to me._

"Cas... I need you."

He hated how they were always talking past each other. How they said words that didn't sound exactly like the words they meant. How it always felt like they were having two conversations at once. He hated it because he missed it. But when he looked at Dean now, all he could see was the face Dean made when he came, and all he could think about was how many girls had seen that face - probably a dozen in merely the last couple of weeks.

"Don't-... Just don't."

"We need to talk, Cas!"

"I did everything you asked." He tried to sound determined. "But you have to pick one person, Dean." He swallowed the imaginary lump in his throat. "You have to pick one and then you have to make it work with that one person... I'm really-..." His voice broke, and he cleared his throat. "I'm really so very truly sorry... but I can't keep being your dirty little secret part-time pleasure."

"That ain't at all what you are-!"

Tears had started to blur his vision, and he furiously blinked them away.

"You can't just come and- and go as you please... anymore. I can't-..." He shook his head from side to side once, turning his scrunched up face down, willing himself not to cry. It hurt too much looking at Dean. His heart pounded as if he had just run a marathon, and his stomach flipped. "I'm going to make it on my own." He looked up again and met Dean's wide, sad eyes. "I'm not some cliché, you know. I _can_ eat and sleep and breathe without you." Cas tried to sound sure, but he doubted that he could even fool himself.

"Cas-"

"No. It'll be okay... someday." He nodded eagerly to convince himself, wiping his face with the back of his right hand, still holding the fully loaded plastic bag. "That's all I want. And maybe that's selfish- I don't know. I don't care. I just want to be okay."He took step away. "I can change. Hell, Cas, I've changed already!" Dean said, stopping him. A deep breath. "I don't believe that you can, Dean."

He quickly turned on his heel before his floodgates opened completely, and kept walking as if he had never stopped. His heartbeat rushed in his ears, and his mind worked through the words that had just been spoken. He had been as honest as he had dared, for once not straight up lying about the pain. And he really could eat and sleep and breathe without Dean - he just didn't know if he wanted to.

He managed to make it back to the flat without crashing his car, and when he came up to the apartment he immediately picked a record at random and placed it on the turntable, itching to get the party started so that he could forget about a certain boy which he had just recently decided not to think about anymore tonight. He went over to the kitchen counter and took out the alcohol, a few different mixers, and a tall glass. The vinyl started to spin. It crackled slightly before it began playing, and when he heard the lyrics he took two long steps back across the floor, carelessly yanking the needle off of the track.

" _I can't make it if you leave me. I'm sorry Suza_ -" The music stopped with a scratching sound before the room fell into silence. Sad songs were the last thing he needed. Annoyed, he rumaged through the boxes under the stereo until he finally found the AUX cord. Plugging his phone into the system, he clicked his way to a random party playlist in the wide world of Spotify. He shuffled the songs before he clicked play and returned to the inevitable intoxication in the bottles on the counter. A heavy club beat from a - to Cas - unknown song, echoed through the speakers. His movements felt mechanical as he poured himself a grog and emptied half the glass in a few greedy gulps to get in the mood. He had finished the rest and started on a second glass when Meg came back.

"You having a party, or what?" She snorted and arched an eyebrow, smirking. He must have been a fun sight, standing there by himself in the kitchen, pouring drink after drink rapidly down his throat while the rest of the apartment sounded like a club, because Meg seemed to be unusually close to laughter.

"Grab a glass." His head had started to hurt a little and his vision swayed slightly, but that only encuraged him to drink more. "Drinks're on the house- or, eh- apartment." He tried on a smile just to see if it could help him feel better. It didn't, but he kept it on anyway.

"Aye-aye captain." She bobbed her head to the beat as she dropped her dark-green duffle bag by the door and joined him in the kitchen, taking a glass from the cabinet over the sink. Cas filled up both their glasses and raised his, clinking it together with hers. Meg grinned and drank with him, then helped him get all the bottles over to the couch. "You know what would be fun?" she suddenly said, sitting down next to him.

"What?" He took another gulp of his drink - it started to really take effect, and it felt promising, hopeful in some kind of way. Without thinking he emptied the glass completely and in the same manner Dean used to do it; throwing his head back, swallowing the scoarching liquid with a straight face. He snorted, a little melancholy. Straight face. Straight.

Meg didn't answer verbally; she merely shoved her hand down into one of the pockets on her jeans and pulled out a small plastic bag with a red zipper-thing across at the top, one of those that closes when you press it together. She wiggled the plastic in the air between their faces, before she opened the bag and plucked out two tiny pieces of paper, placing one carfeully in Cas' now stretched out, open palm of his hand. There was a tiny image on it and Cas turned the paper around to see what it was. Jesus Christ, spread out on the cross in the traditional, standard pose with his arms out from his sides.

"I told you I'd contribute to the party." She finished her glass and refilled it, holding her other hand closed, turned into a fist. "I chose the picture specially for you. But if you don't like it, I guess you can have mine." She opened her hand and inspected her paper. "It's got a rainbow on it. Maybe more suiting, now that I think about it."

"What is it?" Cas asked, suspecting to know the answer already. He had put his glass away on the coffee table in order to study the tiny square in his hand closer.

"Something that'll make you feel better" she answered, watching him. "Like-... medicine, if you will."

"Yeah- Well- But- What do I-" he stuttered. He got his answer when he raised his eyes and caught sight of Meg putting hers on her tongue, closing her mouth. Cas didn't consider it for very long. He wanted to feel better. So he did the same with his tiny quare, placing it on his tongue, feeling it melt, swallowing his drug-induced saliva, and it all started to spiral from there.

It came to him slowly, and suddenly he was unsure of how long they had been sitting there. Shapes and patterns began floating out from his usually bare, white walls as if there was a colourful wallpaper pushing through from behind - forms and figures, devoid of human emotion, detaching themselves from reality. They swirled around and moved in waves, and it made Cas feel bubbly. A giggle slipped out of him, and he raised his hand to his mouth as if to stop the laugh from escaping. He looked over at Meg who had scooched down, laying in a seemingly uncomfortable position with her neck bent and the back of her head against the back of the couch. Yes, it undoubtedly looked unpleasant but he wanted to do the same. So he scooched down quickly, closely, shoulder to shoulder, and Meg raised her hand and followed the swirling lines in the air with her fingers.

"They're so pretty" Cas admitted, and now it was Meg who giggled. It startled and shocked him since he hadn't heard her make that sound before, but it also made him giggle anew. "Where did they come from?" he wondered aloud.

"Everywhere" Meg answered and stretched her hands up above her head, trying to catch the indefinable, beautiful swirls as they passed by them. She sounded happy, and Cas realized that he actually felt happy as well - he could see why Meg was so into this.

"Is it always this wonderful?" He closed his eyes and felt the swirly lines sparkle and shine down like a rain of sunshine and stars on his face. Meg giggled again.

"It is this time" she laughed. Cas opened his eyes again and saw that Meg's fingers were slowly, gently whisking around up in the sparkling hallucination of red and pink and purple and blue and gold. He scooched down some more in order to get a better view of her fingers moving, and he felt the floor under him as he landed. His fingers raked through something soft and when he looked down he saw that it was the rug. Had it really been this soft before? He didn't care because it was now, and he pushed the table away with his feet before he fell back on the rug and stroked the softness.

"Try the rug" he said in a haze, raking his hands up and down. It felt like he was making a snow angel, but without the snow, and inside, on his rug. A rug angel. He looked up and saw that the whole ceiling was filled with sparkling stars, constellations he had never seen before, and he thought that he wanted to draw them, but for now he was happy with simply enjoying the view.

He hadn't heard her stand up, but suddenly Meg flew by over him, quickly, and then she was gone, out of his view again. The music changed, and Cas figured that she had figured out the screen lock on his phone. He followed her with his gaze as she went by him and landed on the couch again, sipping on a whole bottle of Chardonay. The music must have been extremely loud because the liquid rippled in his glass above him on the table.

" _B-b-b-benny and the jets..._ " Meg sang her heart out with the almost empty bottle in her hand, carelessly waving it around to the rhythm of the piano. Cas couldn't resist joining in.

" _She's got electic boobs! I know her shoes! You know, I read it in a magaziiine! Oh-ooo. B-b-b-benny and the jetsss_ " Cas bawled loudly, rolling around on the rug, ending up on his stomach.

"The hell did you just sing?" Meg asked with a drunken laughter. She leaned over the edge of the couch to talk in Cas' ear, but she seemed to forget - or maybe she just didn't truble to lower her voice. "You wanna go to the other party?" She sounded excited and that made Cas excited too. He nodded eagerly and jumped up, smashing his head into the groups of stars in the air.

The chilly evening air hit him in the face a moment later when they made it down to the street. He felt the cold, but he didn't freeze. It just felt different, and it continued to feel weird all the way to the apartment building where the party supposedly were. The stairwell up to the party was dark and he started to feel a little uneasy. It smelled pent up of smoke and people and vomit, and they were met by someone human-shaped when they stepped in through the door. Cas stared at him with wide eyes as Meg pulled him with her. They ended up in a bathroom where the shine of the blue tiles seemed to morph into faces and jump off of the wall, right at him. He couldn't keep his head still, but he wasn't sure if he was moving either. Although, Meg was moving. Her dark curls and pale complexion made her look like Snow White. Her lips parted and formed words rapidly, but Cas didn't hear her voice. All that filled his ears was a white, void-like, numbing silence.

All of a sudden she pressed herself against him. Her arms were around his neck. She stood on her toes. When Cas took a step back and felt the uneven tiled wall stopping him, Meg followed. Her harsh lips were all over his confused mouth. Before he knew it she had let go of him. Their bloodshot eyes stared at each other for a moment - long or short, he couldn't tell. Time wasn't a functioning aspect.

Then Meg was gone.

Somehow Cas managed to get out of the bathroom. He focused excessively on his own thoughts and surroundings. He couldn't stop seeing shadows everywhere. It felt like they were following him and he pushed his way through hoards of people. Someone somewhere asked if he wanted to get blitzed but he didn't hear where the question came from. Besides, he had a little too much on his plate already.

"You okay, man? Come try some of this." Someone gripped his arm and pulled him with out on a balcony. The wind blew in his face again, and he pressed his back against the wall, as far away from the edge as possible. He could clearly see the ugly railing that surrounded them, but it felt like if he stepped too close he would fall over anyway.

"Praise it, blaze it" someone exclaimed.

Multiple voices echoed around him, laughing, and someone shoved a lit, all-white, funny-looking cigarette in his hand. Without question he took a pull, drew it deep down in his lungs, and coughed violently and involuntarily. It caused him to hurl himself forward, leaning on the railing, spitting over the edge until that feeling of falling unfortunately returned. Quickly he hurried back into the apartment, leaving the group of laughing people behind.

He managed to find a comfy chair in something that looked like a living room. Nestled on the chair, legs pulled up, bundled into a ball to stay safe, he sat there for God knows how long, merely trying to focus on his breathing, closing his eyes to force the shadows back into the corners of the room, but that almost only made it worse. This wasn't fun anymore. She had said it would be fun. Where were Meg? He felt panic and confusion and sorrow. Was it wearing off? Was he going back to normal now? He wanted to feel good again, like he had done back home in his own flat.

All of a sudden he remembered the person in the hallway who had offered him more drugs. He stood up so fast that the chair tipped over and everyone in the room turned and looked at him. In a few seconds he had miraculously located the dealer in the crowd and gotten another little square which he threw into his mouth without thinking any more about it. He soon realized that he shouldn't have done that. The shadows grew into shapes that looked like huge men, coming after him. Before he knew it he ran back through the hallway, stopped by a mirror next to the door, stared into it and was met by two huge, wide-open, bloodshot, dead eyes. The sight scared him into action again and all of a sudden he was back out on the street. He ran and ran and ran, and the shadows chased him. They were everywhere; in the trees, in the small creases where the street became the sidewalk, in the corners of the buildings. Black tentacles seemed to reach out towards him. He rushed by them as his face started to morph into one giant mess of sweat and heat. His chest pressed itself together and he gasped desperately, but the air just bent and shifted around his body. The light from the apartment buildings radiated like torches and the wet concrete of the street under him shone with a vicious, luminous gleam. Everything started to blur together and Cas fell.

It was all so hazy after that. He strained himself to peel his eyes open from time to time. Once, he was in the back of a dark car, and he closed his eyes again when he noticed the shadows lurking around still. The next time, he was walking, dragged towards... somewhere - he couldn't tell physical objects apart anymore. Then he was in a dark room, although the air and the sounds made it feel bigger like a venue or an events room or a warehouse. Something burned in his sides and on his arms, but the pain in his head was the worst. He tried to scream, hoping for help, begging for it to stop, before everything went dark again.

 

* * *

 

 

"Fucking Crowley. I said I'd get the money" an angry female voice murmured to herself somewhere nearby. "Lucky you that I followed ya, stupid boy." He would have recognized that annoyed tone of voice anywhere. "Don't you fucking dare go anywhere right now" she whispered, almost hissed at him. "I'm not the type who enjoys risking my life, running around and saving just anyone."

Cas managed to open his eyes slightly and found that he was laying on a dusty warehouse floor, tied to a chair. The burning on his wrists ceased and his limbs were freed. He peered his eyes up at Meg as she tried to help him get up on his feet - he had no idea what was going on and his head was killing him, but he was overjoyed and extremely relieved to see her.

"Meg?" His voice was faint and his throat dry. He tried to swallow a few times, but it hurt too much. He leaned on her as she led him away towards a huge ajar, metal door.

"I called Winchester" she said, holding him up - she was unbelievably strong for someone so small. "He should be here with the getaway car any second."

A loud ringing started in his ears as a shot was fired, and they both fell to the floor. When he looked up he couldn't see a single soul - it was just them and the shadows in the corners. But when he looked down he froze. Blood was gushing and soaking through Meg's t-shirt where she was laying on the dirty floor. When she coughed, more blood came up her throat, trickling down her chin. Help. An ambulance. A doctor. Anyone. Cas remembered that he was a medical student, but suddenly he had no idea what to do. His vision was all messed up and his head felt like it was about to fall off.

"Meg" he cried with grit in his throat. "What do I do?" He desperately tried to hold the sleeve of his shirt over the blood. Then what? Meg's strained chuckling turned into coughs and more blood.

"Fuck... You know- I've survived homelessness, Clarence. Abuse, loss, violence..." She enumerated her life experiences, sounding as if she'd never finish, and Cas suddenly felt worse and worse for every single one. What kind of friend was he who didn't know these things? What kind of friend was he who had hardly even supported her? "But this drug crap is kicking my ass." She tried on a cocky smile to smooth it all over, but it only came off as a strained grin, teeth stained and smeared with blood.

"Stop" he begged helplessly. "Stop this, Meg. It's not funny."

"People die, Cas" she said, her voice turning gravelly, liquids churning around audibly in her throat. "That's what people do."

"Not now- Not today- Not like this- Meg-"

The pain in his head must have knocked him out because the next time he opened his eyes he had managed to stumble out of the building, sitting himself down in a dark alleyway. He wasn't sure which way to go, and everything was hazy, so he stayed put, barely managing to pull air down into his lungs.

Dean appeared along the wall, a few meters from the doorway where Cas had just crawled out. When he caught sight of Cas he ran to him and fell down on his knees in the dirty alley, tugging on Cas' coat, making him sit up straight with his back against the concrete wall, keeping him there while his limp form almost sogged back down onto the wet ground. He wasn't even aware that he had leaned and slided down a wall, ending up on the ground. Everything was so very hazy. Dean was hazy too. He looked scared. Cas had never seen that before. Dean began looking even more blurry as Cas' eyelids started drooping shut.

"No. No- Cas, don't make me lose you too" he heard Dean beg, but it sounded so far away, as if he was talking to some other Cas. It was followed by a deep breath as Dean trembled by the mere sight of him, shaking him a little until he opened his eyes again. The hurt look in Dean's greens confused him when they locked on to his. It all ached in his chest and his stomach, and as Dean moved closer between Cas' thighs, he leaned in, foreheads touched gently together. A whimper escaped Cas' shivering lips before he could press his mouth harshly into a line, scrounging up his face as the tears started to fall, landing silently in his lap. As Dean cupped his face in his hands, supporting him and keeping him awake, he gave Cas a sudden and messy touch of lips.

Cas grew more weary and limp and dizzy, and Dean tried to gulp down his tears as they locked eyes again. Blood had trickled from his ear down over Dean's fingers, but he didn't say anything about it. Cas' heart was pounding so hard in his chest that it hurt, lips shivering, snot and tears running without hindrance. The one serene thought that made its way through his mushy mind was " _You're so beautiful, Dean. Has anyone ever seen something so beautiful?_ ".

"Dean?" He didn't really see him, there were all these tears and grits in the way, making Dean look like a child's water colour painting. Cas' brain felt like foggy sludge, his breath hitched and he coughed, raising one fist to his mouth instinctively. When he lowered it back down to the ground beside him, Dean caught blood shining on the sleeve of his coat.

"I'm here, Cas."

"I want our child" he said with a voice that started to turn dry and gravelly again.

"What?" Dean breathed faintly, fiddling with his phone or something. A bit rude. Why would he do that now when Cas was trying to tell him something?

"In the paper... The new treatments... I told you..." Cas caught his eye as he raised the phone to his ear. "You have to promise me... Dean..."

"I promise, Cas. Anything you want." Dean's attention shifted, he saw it in his eyes when it happened. "911? We need help!"

When Dean hung up the phone, he dropped it on the concrete and pulled Cas into his arms, cradling him with his face by his chest, rocking them both slightly back and forth in anxiousness. He turned his face up towards the black sky and a tear slipped out of the corner of his eye, down his cheek, falling from his chin.

"Please-... God... Please- I-... I've never asked for anything... and I know I don't have much to offer, but- just-..." He clenched his jaw and whispered in a desperate, almost brittle voice which Cas hadn't heard from him before. "Take whatever you want from me- Take my apartment, the car, my life- Take it all, but please, just-... Don't take him..."

Cas' eyes drooped shut again and he sogged even more where he lay in Dean's arms. He didn't feel his burning ribs or the aching in his head anymore - he felt calm, okay, peaceful. His mind mixed up memories and images and words, and a jumbled mess of a quote became his last thought before everything faded out into nothingness.

" _In the end I would have done anything for you. I was ready to give it all up. Madly, mindlessly, out of my wits in love. The good parts were so good that I was willing to suffer an unbelievable amount of pain just to get to them. I didn't think once about what I was throwing into the fire, as long as I could keep the fervor alive for just a minute longer - as long as I was allowed to sit a minute longer by the comforting heat._

 _That was how I loved you in the end. With my body cold and shuddering. With empty hands over smouldering ash, counting out the minutes._ "


	16. An ending

The room was bare except for the bed in the middle, the boring, tall, slim white wardrobe to the left, and the weird-looking machine to the right which was hooked up to Cas through a bunch of wires and tubes. The early April morning light was casting its dull shine in on the walls, all of which were painted in a cold white and puke green palette, as one would imagine. The windowsill held a plastic flower in an ugly brown pot. The only sound in the silent room was the constant buzzing from the machine, and Cas' calm breaths.

Dean had started to miss sleeping in a bed since the makeshift one consisting out of chairs, which he got to borrow every night from the waiting room, was more than just a little uncomfortable and narrow. But he was too anxious to head home every night. Besides, he wouldn't have been able to sleep at all if he left Cas' side - luckily they hadn't exactly forced him to leave either. The young man with the usually so pretty blue eyes, looked unusually peaceful for someone with that many harsh bruises and bandages - even though Dean had been staring at him the whole time, it was still earthshaking and nausea-inducing to see him like this. Like death in a Sunday dress. Cas had been unconscious for days now, and the doctors hardly told Dean anything because they weren't family by blood, or something stupid like that. He briefly looked down at his solid, black wristwatch. Somewhere around sixtyish hours had passed since-... Yeah... Sixtyish hours. That was pretty much equivalent of three Harry Potter audiobooks.

His phone suddenly started to vibrate in the sidepocket of his jacket which was thrown over the backrest of the chair he was sitting on. It demanded his attention, and he unwillingly took his eyes off of Cas to answer it.

"Hey boy" Bobby rumbled on the other end. "It's Monday and I've got some work here for ya, but if you don't want it you just gotta-"

"Oh- Dammit- Bobby, I'm so sorry." He raked his hand back through his hair and then down his face, trying to wake himself from the paralyzed stillness and the waiting. He stood up as quietly as he could with one hand on the armrest and the other around the phone, plastered to his ear, lowering the volume slightly by pressing the button on the side with his thumb without looking. Slowly, he moved away from the bed, towards the door. "I was gonna call you, but I guess I sorta forgot. I need to take the week off. I must have some vacation days I could use."

"Something happened?" Bobby asked, sounding sligthly more self-contained and cautious - maybe even worried. Dean turned and looked at Cas again. His chest continued to rise and sink vaguely, lashes throwing soft, tiny shadows, eyes moving now and then under the eyelids.

"Y'could say that."

"Okay. Well, don't worry 'bout vacation days and all that. Just call me." He was a strict but still extremely kind man. Dean nodded before he realized that Bobby couldn't see him.

"Yeah. I will."

Suddenly he caught sight of a familiar long, white coat and grey-streaked thatch through the round window in the door, walking past out in the corridor. He remembered his manners a little and told Bobby that they would talk later, before he hung up and left the room.

"Ehm- Excuse me." Dean took a leap out into the corridor and caught the attention of Cas' doctor who had just passed by the door for the hundreth time - Dean hadn't cared much about learning the staff's names. He threw one more glance at Cas before he carefully closed the door behind him. "Do you- I mean, have you-... you know..." What more could Dean possibly say that he hadn't already been nagging about over the past few days? "He hasn't woken up yet. S'that really normal?" He felt repetitive and possibly annoying, but he didn't care.

"You need to have patience, Mr Winchester-" the doctor said calmly, repeating himself as well.

"It's been three days!" Dean insisted, desperately. "He looks terrible- I just-"

"We cleaned and stitched several cuts and stabs created by different kinds of sharp instruments. The bruises will heal and fade on their own in a few weeks- maybe months. He's lucky there was no internal bleeding, and that they didn't hit him harder; his ribs were a few punches away from breaking. We have taken a few cell samples, just to be sure that everything is the way it should."

Dean's breath hitched. He clenched his jaw and exhaled slowly, as steadily as he could muster - he didn't want to hear any of this but he had to, he needed to.

"But he's gonna be okay. Right?"

"Physically, yes. But we can only wait and see how he feels when he wakes up. Being kidnapped and tortured can take its toll on the mind and soul as well. And we detected several different illegal substances in his system. Is Mr Novak an avid drug user?"

"Wha-"

"Mr Winchester, you need to be prepared that Mr Novak might need to see a licensed therapist. Are you sure there's no family we can call?"

"No" he replied quickly, mindlessly, before pulling himself together slightly, turning his hands into badly clenched fists down in the pockets of his jeans. His nails dug into the skin of his palms. "I'll do it myself. Soon" he ensured lowly before pushing the door open and returning in to his chair at the far wall by Cas' left side.

He continued to entertain himself as best as he could, passing the time in any way possible. He flipped through a few magazines that he had found in the waiting room, but quickly discarded and threw the shallow tabloids aside. He slept, moving around, trying to find a bearable position on the chair. When he couldn't ignore his roaring stomach anymore, he scrambled together some change which he found in the depths of his pockets, and then staggered out into the corridor. It wasn't that hard choosing between the chocolate and nutrition bars, crammed together in the old vending machine a few doors down the hall, and when he had gotten as much as his money had earned him, he returned to Cas' room where he sat down and munched up the candy.

His phone continued to ring soundlessly all day. He never picked up. When the evening came, he couldn't ignore it any longer. Ash's name was plastered across the screen, and Dean sighed before answering. He did not feel like talking to that mullet-wearing guy, or anyone else for that matter.

"What?" he grunted into the phone as he walked out into the corridor.

"Hey, Dean-o! Where've you been all weekend? Lisa's been calling like crazy, asking if we've seen you."

Dean drew his hands down his jaw. He started to get a headache.

"Busy. Can't talk right now." Irritated, he clenched his jaw, hard. He didn't have time for this - he couldn't care less about any of them right now. He was so tired that his eyes started tearing up, and he blinked furiously so that none of the nurses and visitors in the corridor would think he was crying or something.

"Well- Where are you?" Ash persisted. "I gotta give your girl something, you know."

"Son of a bitch- I'm with my boyfriend! Okay?" he snapped, hissing lowly, frustrated impatience boiling over. "Yeah! I like a dude! Big freckin' deal!" He pressed away the call and closed the flip phone with his thumb before he could regret saying anything. The pain in his head started to get more palpable, and he pinched the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes, trying to wish it all away.

He clenched the phone in his fist as he walked back into Cas' room to check on him out of some subconscious need. When he found him sitting up in the bed, looking around confusedly, fingering on the plastic air tube under his nose, Dean almost dropped his phone. The white, v-necked hospital gown had slided down a little from his left shoulder.

"Cas" he exclaimed lowly under his breath, and the three letters nearly drowned in the exhalation.

It made him raise his blue stare to Dean, and he was so beautiful, even though he was peering his eyes doubtingly. Dean wanted to run to him and just hold him for twenty minutes or so, without anything else interfering. Not pull away. Not look at his face. Not try to kiss him. Just simply wrap him up in his arms. Not an ounce of selfishness - or maybe a little, considering he hadn't held him in so long.

So he did. Without thinking. He knew that they hadn't left off at the best of terms, so Cas might find it awkward, but he couldn't restrain himself. He took a few long steps and came up to Cas' side, sitting down on the edge, pulling him into his desperate arms. His left hand on Cas' back held him still, firmly, while his right one raked through his dark hair. It felt so good and he could have stayed there for the rest of forever, but Cas felt so stiff and he didn't hug back.

"What the hell were you thinking?" he asked accusingly yet with utter relief, as he eventually pulled away. His heart raced, he was out of breath and he had completely forgotten what the doctor had said about the very real possibility that Cas could be extremely confused even without being questioned.  _Don't pressure him._

Cas furrowed his brows and seemed to lean away slightly. Dean didn't get a chance to say anything more before the doctor and a pretty, black-haired nurse came in and started to check Cas' IV and some other stuff Dean wasn't really paying attention to. He stood up and moved to the foot of the bed in an attempt to stay out of their way, holding the metal railing with both his hands, gaze glued to Cas.

"Hello Castiel. Glad you finally decided to join us" the doctor joked. It wasn't very funny, but Dean didn't care - he only cared about Cas. His blue eyes flickered around, now and then lingering on Dean with a confused expression. The prolonged seconds leading up to his reply was so quiet.

"Where am I?" he asked slowly, reserved.

"You're in the hospital" the doctor answered. "There was an incident. We can talk about that later. You recieved a hard blow to the head, so I'd like you to answer some questions. Can you do that, Castiel?"

"Yes" he replied flatly.

"Okay! Good!"

The nurse picked up Cas' charts from where it hanged at the side of the bed, and handed them to the doctor.

"What's your name?"

"Cas." He seemed to wait for the next question for a second before he shook his head slightly. "I mean- Castiel. Novak."

One side of Dean's mouth curled up a little.

"How old are you?"

Cas furrowed his brows again.

"I remember my seventeenth birthday" he began.

That was odd, considering he was twenty-four. How could someone not remember seven birthdays? The thought hit Dean that maybe Cas' hadn't been as fun as birthdays should be, and maybe he had just repressed them - Dean knew some of what Cas' dad had exposed his youngest son to. He felt uneasy and the train of thought made his skin crawl, but he quickly brushed it off of him. The doctor kept taking notes.

"What is the last thing you remember, Castiel?"

Dean got another swift glance of those blue eyes.

"I-..." He scrunched up his face pensively. "I was at one of Mike's football games. I was on the bleachers with dad. Gabe was getting hot dogs... There was a gum stuck under my shoe..."

It suddenly got really hard to breathe. Dean swallowed nervously a few times.

"Do you know who this is?" The doctor motioned at Dean without taking his eyes off of Cas.

The longer it took for Cas to answer, the more it started to hurt around Dean's heart. As if the major organ was in one of those plastic bags that you could suck the air out of with a vacuum cleaner.

Eventually Cas' eyes turned apologetic and he shook his head.

The air was knocked out of Dean completely. His knees buckled under him and he bent forward, folded in half, resting his forehead against the cool railing of the bed. _No_. He felt dizzy.  _No, no, no_. This couldn't be happening. _Please, no_.

A stern hand landed on his back and made him straighten up. The doctor looked at him and motioned towards the door, and Dean didn't know what else to do, so he walked out, followed closely by the older man.

"The amnesia can be caused by different things" he began before Dean had even had time to collect his thoughts. "It's probably neurological."

_Wait- What?_

"It could be a swelling of the brain against the skull. But it could also be a psycological defence after the trauma. Posttraumatic amnesia. PTA for short. I'm afraid I can't tell you anything more, young man, until we get a hold of Novak's family."

_The trauma? Which one? Wait- His family? Cas' parents?_

Dean still couldn't breathe. He wanted to say that he could sign for Cas, taje responsibility for him, be his contact. Panic started to fill him from his feet up. He imagined it as black tar, consuming him slowly.

He wasn't sure exactly when the doctor left, but suddenly he was alone in the hallway. For the next few hours Dean sat confined on one of his bed-chairs, in the corridor, right outside of Cas' room. On Cas' request. Or the doctor's. He wasn't informed which. He had been paralyzed and emotionless ever since Cas had shook his head at him. Sam had sent him a casual text, asking what he was doing, and Dean had answered by telling him what had happened to Cas.

He could hear people charging down the corridor right before four figures appeared next to him, rushing in through the doorway to Cas' room. A tall, older man, a conservative-looking woman with her auburn hair in a knot, and two men who looked to be no more than a few years older than Cas. So, this was the family? Dean didn't stay to chat.

His legs were heavy as he left the building and walked down to the nearest bar. He hadn't been to this particular joint for ages - he always went to Benny at the downtown bar and grill nowadays. This place looked the same as last time he had been there, though; it smelled of stale cigarette smoke, the seats were clad in the same old faded leather, and the speakers emitted songs accompanied by weeping guitars. He crashed on a barstool, hanged the jacket back over the backrest, rolled up the sleeves of his shirt, and rested his forearms on the bar, waving the barman to him. They were two people working this late afternoon, one of each gender, and Dean caught himself calculating which one he could have a bigger chance of taking home with him. He quickly shook the thought out of his head; that was his old way of thinking, and he was sick and tired of it.

"Your strongest and cheapest-... anything you can uncork, uncap or unscrew" he ordered with a gravelly voice. "Or a glass o' JD... That'll do just as fine." He cleared his throat as the man turned to grab the bottle from a glass shelf behind him.

What was he going to do now? What could he do? He had ruined everything, per usual. Was he supposed to just go down to the garage in the morning and continue on that client's car he had been working on, as if he had never even met that sweet, coy, blue-eyed, young man that Cas was? Dean had experienced war, but this pain was... something else...

 _Maybe you'll put a bullet in your brain and be done with it_ , his mind grunted at him.

In a swift, habitual motion, he threw his head back and swept the drink in front of him. He placed the glass back down on the bar, but kept his fingers around it.

"Dean?"

He turned his head towards the sound of his name and snorted at Sam's worried frown.

"I figured you'd seek out the nearest watering hole."

"What're you doin' here, Sammy?"

Sam took the seat next to him without saying a word.

"Hey, I'm no mind-reader!"

"I wouldn't usually interfere... but you're starting to worry me... and you're worrying Jess too" Sam admitted eventually. "You've been weird for months and now this."

Dean sighed.

The front door to the bar opened and someone stepped inside. Sam watched as Dean's head spun around to see who it was.

"Dean?"

"I don't need you two cahooting against me. I'm fine. Hey- You wanna flame some Sambuca with your big brother?" Dean glanced up at Sam who didn't look convinced in the slightest. He began giving in - he just needed to give Sam enough so that he'd turn on his heels and go back home to Jessica. "Ever have one of those days where you just can't win?"

Sam didn't answer this time either; he merely watched him, and soon Dean began feeling like a lab rat under those annoyingly caring eyes. He yanked his head sideways and caught the male bartender's attention again, who swiftly came over and filled his glass with another round of liquid gold. He thanked him with a short nod before he emptied his glass, gathering strength. Something snapped and suddenly he just couldn't live a lie anymore. He slammed the glass down on the bar, as if to push himself. This seemed to be the day of revealing stuff. Now or never.

"You know how I love pie- I mean, how I _really_ love pie" he started, bloodshot eyes widening at the empty glass as he emphasised the word "really". Sam rolled his eyes.

"I get it, Dean. _'Pie'_ means _'girls'_..."

Dean ignored him. He felt like he just started to get a hang of this whole coming out thing, and he didn't want to give Sam the chance to interrupt him so that he'd change his mind.

"But... what if a really great cake came along? Like, a _really_ great cake- So great it'd make me wanna eat cake for the rest of my life..."

"You don't have to say-"

"Dammit, Sam, I _do_ have to." He waved the bartender to him again and motioned for him to leave the whole bottle this time. Then he rested his forearms on the bartop and stared at the glass vial, swallowing the nervous imaginary lump in his throat. "I know we haven't talked about this before, but I'm not gonna lie to you, Sammy. Me and-... and Cas..." Dean's eyes suddenly flickered down between his jeans-clad knees, towards the floor. Involuntarily, he made an almost imperceptible face like he was in pain, but he still forced himself to say the words. "It's a pretty messed-up situation we got going..." He reached for the whiskey and unscrewed the black plastic cork. " _Had_... _had_ going..." he said, correcting himself with a heavy heart.

"No, Dean... You really don't need to say it." Sam turned in his seat, keeping his left forearm resting on the bar, facing his big brother. "I've looked up to you since I was- what- four" he said with a serious and caring expression, shrugging a shoulder. "Studying you... Trying to be just like my big brother... So, yeah. I know you... better than anyone else in the entire world."

Dean furrowed his brows in a pained expression when he heard Sam - here he had thought that Sam had been completely oblivious all these years. He kept his eyes on his glass the entire time, filling it all the way up to the edge as his brother spoke. Sam's concerned gaze burned the side of his face.

"And I kind of noticed... things..." he continued carefully. "Like, the first time I met Cas, he turned up the volume in the car when he heard some sad _pop song_ -..." He furrowed his brows and said the words "pop song" with the kind of disgust he expected Dean to feel about the genre. "And you didn't change the station... That-... Well- Just-... Things like that... Just something I picked up on."

"God, I'm stupid" Dean grunted before he swept his whole drink at once, bottom up, clenching his jaw as he swallowed. He wasn't sure if he meant that he was stupid because Sam had figured it out no matter how cautious he had been, or if he meant the fact that he had lost Cas. Just thinking his name made the chest pains worse; half the time it hurt so badly that he almost suspected that he was having the worlds longest heart attack. A slow-poison paroxysm, as Cas would have said. Damn. Even his dumb medical parables reminhad stuck in Dean's head. He never should have touched him with his harbinger heart and dragged him down. All he really ever could offer was distance mixed with a little coffin-promised love. God, how Dean wished he had treated Cas right. "What happened to him-... It's all on me."

"Dean..."

"No, Sammy-" He filled the glass again.

"It wasn't your fault th-" Sam interrupted, but was interrupted right back.

"If I hadn't treated him the way I did, none of this would've happened." Dean emptied the glass again.

"Everyone makes mistakes, but-" Sam began sounding a little desperate.

"Mistakes? You really wanna go through all of my mistakes? Dean Winchester's greatest hits?" He almost started shouting, but he wasn't sure if it was due to the resentment towards himself, or if it was a result of the alcohol in his system. Probably a combination of the two. A restless storm whistled in his ears.

"Dean-"

"No, Sam." Glass filled. "Go home to Jess." Glass emptied.

 

* * *

 

At closing hours he stumbled out the door, leaned against the brown brick wall. He grabbed a black downpipe for support and clung to it for a second before he scooched down to the ground, slack-jawed and slumped over. He felt so small.

He managed to get his phone out and despite the drunken fog in his head, he found the right number. Time floated together slightly; he remembered talking to Sam on the other end, but suddenly he could discern his big little brother running towards him from his car across the street.

"Dean? Dean, look at me" Sam urged sternly as he sank down to Dean on the ground, trying to keep his voice steady. He grabbed Dean's unshaved cheeks between his hands and turned his bruised face up to look at him, ignoring the blood running from Dean's nose.

After squinting his greens for a moment, Dean finally seemed to see him through the whiskey induced haze, yet still unfocused when he finally met Sam's frantic stare.

"Wow, Sammy. You're fast" he said lowly, chuckling, but he wasn't sure if Sam heard him.

"You're hurt" Sam exclaimed lowly with a rumbling voice. "What happened? Who did this? I shouldn't have left. Dean-"

_What? Hurt? Nah, stop it Sammy, I'm fine!_

He couldn't recall being in a fistfight recently. Actually, he couldn't recall anything from the past couple of hours. Sam was such a sap. Always so protective. It was Dean who was supposed to take care of Sammy - it was he who was the big brother. Dean could look out for himself, but Sam was his responsibility. Not the other way around. He wanted to say something funny about how Sam had gotten it all wrong, but an image popped up in his head and stopped him. Protect. Responsible.

"She used to tell me, when she tucked me in, that there were angels looking after us" Dean slurred, tears suddenly clouding his eyes even more. "Like, that... that was the last thing she ever said to me... But she was wrong."

"Dean...?" Sam said, sounding a little uncertain. He let go of Dean's face with one hand, and scrambled around in his jacket pocket for his phone, clicking until he got to Bobby's number.

"Mom..." Dean looked up at Sam with bloodshot, teary eyes, a helpless, devastated look on his face, and he blindly felt around on his own chest until he could feel Cas' locket under his shirt, touching it through the fabric. One lonely tear escaped, running down his reddened cheek and over his cracked lips. "She w- She was wrong... Sammy... There was nothing protecting her."

Sam was caught off guard and almost forgot to answer Bobby who had picked up on the other end. He finally found the ability to speak and rapidly started to tell him everything.

"There's no... higher power- There's no God!" Dean kept slurring angrily, his head moving from side to side, eyes now pinned to the shirt on Sam's chest. "I couldn't save her..." Dean clenched his jaw and squeezed his eyes shut, flinching slightly by some pain that was invisible to Sam, who in return almost flinched by the mere thought of Dean being in pain. He told Bobby to be home and ready when they got there, before he pressed away the call and the screen went black.

"You were a kid, Dean" he said reassuringly, slipping the phone into the left pocket of his windbreaker. "And it was an accident... The fire... There was nothing you could have done."

"He- dad... told me once that... I reminded him of her." He chuckled suddenly. "I'm messy and I'm ruined and you- Sammy- you have no idea-..." He was silent for a moment, and when he continued to talk, his voice was faint yet still as deep and rugged as always, and his breaths shallow as he spoke the words Sam had long since learned to translate.

"I need him... Cas- I need him..."

_I love him._

For a year Dean had had something worth dying for, but instead he had pulled away. Cas was sweet and strong and he was beyond Dean's understanding, and Dean couldn't stop thinking about how he would tilt his head a little to the side when he listened intently or when he didn't quite understand something.

Dean made himself as small as he could goddamn fucking get without moving at all in his spot by the brick wall.

"He looked right at me and he didn't even recognize me."

Sam drew a sharp breath and tried to pull himself together a little, regaining control over the current situation, the here-and-now.

"Okay, Romeo. C'mere." He lifted Dean's arm over his head and supported him as he pulled him up on his feet, steadying him as they moved towards his car. Dean coughed violently as his black, smoked out lungs betrayed him, bringing the two brothers to a halt for a moment before they continued and Dean slovenly climbed in the front seat.

The next day, and all of the days to come, Dean would stay silent, maybe even leave the room, if Sam tried to bring up Cas in a conversation. He buried it deep within himself, hid it from everyone around him. As if nothing had ever happened.

 

* * *

 

It had been months. Cas still didn't feel like home in the apartment he had come back to a few weeks ago. He couldn't imagine ever having felt like home here. The hospital felt more welcoming. This space just seemed... empty. Bare and cold. He hadn't even brought himself to touch anything other than the most necessary things like the fridge, the toilet and the bed. He had remade it with new sheets. It felt weird sleeping in someone else's - even when that someone was himself. Two days had passed before he dared to use the shower. He was an intruder and the real owner of all this stuff was on a trip somewhere far away.

This morning he had found a suitcase in the back of the stuffed closet. It was a stranger's bag behind a stranger's clothes in a stranger's closet. He was the stranger. The other him. None the less he went through the items on the hangers and in the drawers. Some of it felt okay; plain shirts, sweaters, pressed pants, underwear. All of that he managed to fit into the bag on the bed. He slowly opened the door leading into the bathroom and reluctantly looked through the laundry basket. Something vibrant caught his eye and he grabbed a pink t-shirt with a black print. Two hands pointed up at the neckline and under it there was a text saying " _This girl plays with WIENERS_ " followed by the silhuette of a small dog. Cas furrowed his eyebrows and dropped the shirt back into the basket. He must have known someone who had left that here, or something. Nothing else in the laundry felt worth cleaning and packing. A few socks, boxers, a gray AC/DC shirt that also felt out of place, two grizzled mittens.

Cas turned and met himself in the mirror. He had barely passed by a mirror since he woke up - he had actually tried to avoid it, avoid himself. He looked so old. Twenty-four. How did that happen? The two top buttons on his shirt were undone and something-... something was on his chest. He unbuttoned a few more buttons and carefully opened up. The blue and purple bruises from the kidnapping and from the doctors' needlepoints, had started to turn yellow, but they weren't what had startled him. Long, different-shaped scars crisscrossed over his shoulders, front to back, chest to-... He quickly removed his shirt completely and turned his back towards the mirror, staring at himself over one shoulder. Wrapping his mind around these old-looking wounds was out of the question. His brain started throbbing with a warm pain and he turned his stare away, pulling on the shirt again.

The bag on the bed filled up with more than just clothes. Toothbrush, deodorant, a few old photos of people he remembered without a doubt. He zipped it shut and carried it down to the garage. His mother had been so eager to show him everything in the apartment building when she had given him a ride from the hospital. She had wanted him to stay with them in the villa but he had turned her down, even though it felt strange to have a place of his own. He wasn't sure how their relationship had been for the last seven years, but they hadn't been friends since Cas was eight.

A click with his keyes was all it took to locate his car. It was a little too fancy but it would have to do. He put his bag in the passenger seat, locked the car and returned upstairs to get some boxes. He was going to start over fresh. He needed to be alone and it felt like a positive thing, exciting even. He could do what ever he wanted. Question was, what did he want?


	17. Serendipity

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter for this fic. I am so nervous everytime I update. Comment if you want a sequel!

 

* * *

 

_Maybe we'll meet again,_

_when we are slightly older_

_and our minds less hectic, and_

_I'll be right for you and_

_you'll be right for me._

_But right now,_

_I am chaos to your thoughts and_

_you are poison to my heart._

\- unknown

 

* * *

 

**2013**

Cas had been having memories lately. Good and bad ones. They came to him, sometimes violently and all of a sudden, sometimes slowly and caressingly like a dream. Flashes. Thoughts. Images and an aching longing for something - someone, he didn't remember. The badly heated up hole in the wall where he lived, and his full-time job at the gas station across the road, both kept him busy but still never fully satisfied. Although, who would be content with such a miserable life; a mere existance. There was a void, constantly present. It was there when he woke up in the morning and yet again forgot to remember to get a new light bulb. Alone. It followed him around the shelves when he cleaned and closed up shop for the night, alone. It pulled on his leg when he came home and crashed on the couch in front of the TV, alone.

He hadn't set his foot in Sunnyville, or even Kansas, for three years. It was hard to miss something one barely remembered. The street corners, stores and parks all felt so new. The only memories he had of living there were from his childhood, and he would have sworn that this was the first time he visited the place since then - if only he hadn't been told otherwise. If only he didn't recall moving away from here after the supposed traumatic incident. He remembered the thoughts that had gone throught his head on his way out the apartment door all those years ago. He had left his family. With no home and no source of income, he felt freer than he had in years. The whole world lay open at his feet - he could do anything.

When he had parked his car across from the town square, he stayed in his seat for a while, watching the calm stillness of the summer through his windows. A while back he had found a wrinkled, folded paper napkin with frayed edges, tucked down deep in the pocket of an old coat. It now rested unfolded on his jacket in the passenger seat. The worn creases where it had been folded, spread out like a thin square net across the words. He squinted his eyes down at it, as if he expected it to say anything more.

" **To Cas' mom.**

**You don't deserve him.**

**Sincerely, Dean.** "

It was a squiggly hand-written thing; slightly more vague and crooked in some places, as if it had been written with the paper in someone's lap. Cas had read the note a thousand times, and every time he imagined it, he grew more certain that that was how the message had come into existance. But he had no clue by whom. Well, by this Dean, obviously, but Cas didn't know anyone with that name. At least not anymore.

Finally, he stopped glaring accusingly at the paper napkin, and opened the car door, daring to take a few steps along the concrete. He pressed the button on his keys and locked the car without giving it as much as a glance. The summer wind caressed his cheeks and played in his hair as he began his stroll up the street. He took the short bridge which crossed over a fifteen feet wide canal that whirled on through the park to his left. It felt nice, just walking, and even though he couldn't remember every turn, it somehow felt like more than just a childhood town. Like a dream. This was why he had come back; the small inklings.

"Hey! Ehm-... Novak, right?" a female voice said somewhere behind him.

He came to a halt outside of a hardware store and turned around on the pavement to see who it was that wanted to know. He had to peer his eyes and think really hard, but he still couldn't place that strong yet sweet, sunkissed face. She looked to be in her mid twenties, and so did her brown-haired friend with the bright eyes.

"Cas. Novak, yeah" he said.

"We've never met. I'm Lisa. Lisa Braeden." The beautiful dark-haired woman gave him a wide smile, flashing a row of shiny white teeth.

"Oh... Lisa Braeden... Right..."

"Dana Keel." The brunette gave him a smile as well.

"I think we went to- not the _same_ school, obvioulsy. But my college was right across from the med school."

"Oh, I wish I had been that successful in school!" Dana Keel laughed.

They never stopped smiling.

"Forgive me" Lisa Braeden began and made something turn in Cas' stomach. "You were in the papers a few years ago." She furrowed her brows suddenly and in all seriousness. "Something about a kidnapping. It's hard to forget an article like that in a small town like this, you know. How are you doing?"

"Eh- Yeah..." he answered, unsure if it was true. How do you know if you're okay when you can't even remember what has happened? "I lost a few years worth of memories, but otherwise..." He shrugged once. He still wasn't sure if he should be telling these strangers all that much about himself.

"Oh-... I'm so sorry."

It was a little funny how people always felt the need to apologize for something they hadn't caused or even had anything to do with.

Lisa Braeden quickly brushed a hand against his arm in some sort of comforting gesture.

"How's it going?"

"They tell me I'm lucky. Could have been worse. I've gotten some back. Not alot, though." He shrugged again, not knowing what else to say or do. "So... How are you and Dean?" he asked as casually as he could, changing the subject to something. He had been filled in on alot that had happened, by the only person he had talked to after it all.

Suddenly he felt his face flush hot. He didn't know what to do with himself. He rolled a pebble around under the sole of his shoe and scratched his neck.

"Who? Winchester? Oh- No, we broke it off years ago" she replied with a laugh, conversationally, as if it was obvious. "Actually, _he_ broke it off. I can see why now..." Her dark eyes gave him a strangely indecipherable look.

"Oh. Okay."

"Well, it is hard to think about you in college without bringing up your counterpart" Dana Keel admitted with a teasing nudge at Lisa. "Ruby once said she thought you two would make it in the long haul."

"Yeah, Ruby said alot of things."

"It wasn't just her, though. I mean, if the Dean and the Lisa couldn't make it, what hope was there for the rest of us?"

Cas suddenly felt like he was intruding on a private conversation, which was silly since the two women had approached him, and not the other way around.

"You married Richard" Lisa reminded her friend before turning back to Cas. She didn't catch Dana raise her eyebrows doubtingly. "It's just me and my rambunctious son. Ben. He's great. Three years old already. The father split when Ben was born, but- you know... Men! You can't live with 'em and you can't-... Well...!" She snorted with a half grin. "What're you gonna do, right?" She shrugged a shoulder and her grin faded into a soft smile.

"Oh... Yeah... Must have been difficult."

Lisa and Dana exchanged a glance.

"How do you mean?"

"I-... I heard Dean Winchester was kind of a-... a player" he said cautiously. His chest started to hurt.

"What?" She furrowed her brows again, uncomprehendingly this time. "I guess he could be perceived like... like that. But Dean never slept around. And I'm not making this up just to paint myself as the nice, understanding ex-girlfriend." She laughed at herself. "He told me everything. He might have been acting tough, but it was all talk."

"I didn't know him that well, but he seemed like a genuine, nice guy" Dana added.

"Yeah, he was. Is. Towards the end of us, he didn't even seem to wanna sleep with me. It's like we faded out into friendship." She gave out another laugh. "And I don't know why I just said that!"

Cas tried to smile, as if he understood and it was okay, or something. But her words shook him, for some reason. It was all so confusing, especially his own reactions. He could barely even remember why he cared. He had loved Dean once, or so he had been told. But he wasn't going to argue with Lisa Braeden, because he couldn't really remember if she was right or not.

"Well, Cas, I hope you'll be okay."

The two women started to pull away.

"It was nice meeting you!"

Then they smiled again, turned on their heels and continued walking. Lisa Braeden's dark hair swayed from side to side behind her, in pace with her steps.

Cas watched them for a moment before he let his eyes wander off over the street. Suddenly he locked eyes with a tall, brown-haired man in a white and red chequered shirt, arms rolled up to his elbows, unbuttoned to reveal a dark t-shirt under. He held a shopping bag in his left hand while his right had a firm grip on a big stroller with a sleeping child in it. They looked at each other for a second, standing on opposite sides of the street, until Cas ran across on a whim. He snorted shortly and stared at the man when he stepped up on the sidewalk and under the shadow of a sun blind, so relieved that he almost got tears in his eyes.

"Sam" he said under his breath.

"Cas?" Sam looked shocked, which really wasn't all that unexpected. "I haven't heard from you in years. Where have you been? What are you doing here?"

"It's good to see you too. Sam." He kept saying his name. It felt so good, saying it. Something familiar. He had no clue why he remembered this guy more than other people, but he didn't really care either. He was just so happy he remembered someone.

"Cas...?"

"I just-... " Looking at Sam, he forgot what he was saying. "Sorry." He shook his head and chuckled.

The big guy seemed to ease up by the second, smiling.

"Of course it's good to see you, Cas" he exclaimed before pulling Cas into a quick, tight hug. "How-..." He let go of Cas again and shrugged his wide shoulders, as if he didn't know what one was supposed to say when the person believed to have lost their memory and moved away for years, suddenly shows up just across the street. Silly Sam.

"How's Dean? Still working at the garage?" Cas asked, diving right into his most pressing questions.

Sam's eyes widened slightly.

"Oh- No, he doesn't live in town anymore."

"He moved away?" Cas furrowed his brows.

"Eh- Kind of... He bough a house, actually. Like two- three years ago." Sam sounded as if he still couldn't believe it himself. "If you take the south road out of town and follow it a few miles, there should be a sign leading in on a road to the right. It's out in Winds Hollow. Angel Bay house."

Cas nodded once, determinedly.

People walked past them on the sidewalk, talking, laughing. Birds were chirping somewhere nearby. The sun blind above their heads created a strong shadowed contrast to the sunshine on the pavement below their feet.

"I hope you'll come by while you're in town" Sam offered. "Jess would be so happy. I've got the same phone number."

Cas wasn't entirely sure who Jess was. All he knew was what he had been told, that she was Sam's girlfriend. He nodded in reply either way.

They hugged once more and Sam made Cas swear that he would call, before Sam was on his way again and Cas returned to his car. In his head he repeated the description Sam had given him of how to get to Dean's, while he drove. Take the south road out of town. Follow the road a few miles. A sign will lead in to the right. South road out of town. A few miles. Sign to the right. South, out, miles, sign, right. Maybe Dean was at work. Cas glanced at the clock radio. Okay, it was almost five in the afternoon, so maybe he was home after all. But he could still be busy. Cas started to feel stupid for showing up unannounced and he was just about to find somewhere to turn around when he caught sight of an old-looking, wooden sign pointing his way in on a narrow, dry dirt road to the right. Angel Bay house.

Without thinking any more about it, he blinked and turned in on the road which was lined by tall trees. A few minutes later the view opened up and the road ended on a gravel drive way at the edge of a huge, green lawn. In front of him rose a two-storey, pale yellow house with white window frames and a porch across the whole front. To the left he could discern an apiary; two wooden, man-made beehive boxes up on hive stands, both painted in a pale yellow colour that matched the house. They seemed abandoned or at least low on any bee activity. The grass lawn behind them went downwards towards a sparkling, sunny lake with a short, wooden pier reaching out from the shore. There was a forest stretching out behind the house, and to the right there was a garage, a henhouse with a ring-fence and next to it, a lonely, giant tree with two red ropes tied one above the other around the trunk not that far off the ground. The soft shine of the sun gave everything an illuminating glow as if he was watching it through a crystal glass.

He turned off the engine and suddenly dreaded this whole idea. His skin felt itchy and warm. Was this really such a well thought through plan? He didn't get much time to really change his mind because a figure of a man had appeared on the porch in front of the house. Cas wasn't sure from this distance but it looked like the man was wiping his hands on a kitchen towel. What Cas actually was sure of was that the man had seen him; they were staring right at each other, so turning around now would only be ridiculous. He took a deep breath and climbed out of the car. A sweet, warm scent of open water, wet paint, grilled food and freshly cut grass met him as he nervously and slowly began moving towards the man on the porch. This was it. This was where he would meet Dean Winchester for what felt like the first time - that is, if he was at the right house.

His stomach flipped up side down as he started to get close, and the man took the three steps down from the porch to meet him. He was actually really beautiful, like a roughly chiseled, neoclassical sculpture of an angel warrior, but less smooth and with some scruff on his strong jaw, freckles across his nose, wind in his dark-blond hair and more life in his golden green eyes. He looked shocked, soft lips slightly parted, eyes peering at Cas in the sunlight. They stopped a few meters apart and the man threw the kitchen towel over his left shoulder. A golden locket dangled in a chain around the man's neck. It looked a little out of place against the black t-shirt which revealed two strong, sun kissed arms. Cas had seen pictures - back then, before he moved, when Sam still tried to help him remember - but he hadn't expected this, the man standing in front of him now.

"Cas?" was the only word that came out of him. His voice was deep and rugged, rubbing Cas up all the right ways.

Cas nodded and ruffled his own dark hair a little, suddenly extremely self-conscious. So, he was at the right house then.

"Are you Dean...? Dean Winchester?"

They were both treading slowly, cautiously. The man's expression faltered almost imperceptibly for a second at the question, but regained control and nodded. Words visibly stopped themselves on his tongue, lips still parted. He seemed to fear he'd scare Cas away if he spoke, and Cas feared he'd scare himself or make a complete idiot of himself. This was Dean. This was the man he had loved - who had loved him. This was him and he was beautiful. Cas shrugged and moved around on the spot, nervously.

"What are y- I mean-... It's great seeing you... You look great...!" Dean stumbled over his words slightly and Cas didn't want that voice to stop talking. But he kept all those wishes to himself. "You remember?" It sounded like a hard question to ask aloud and Cas understood why. He didn't know where to start.

"I wanted to meet you" he said, tentative. It took a few more seconds for him to figure out what to say next - he just wanted to get rid of this tension. "Are you surprised to see me?" Cas dared to smile a little at this stranger and it seemed to ease him up because he didn't seem to be able to keep himself from smiling widely in return.

"I hoped you'd be back one day" his deep voice rumbled admittedly, soft lips still smiling.

They were silent for a few more seconds. Cas almost burst out laughing at the situation.

"So..." Cas began. "Beekeeping." He motioned over his left shoulder towards the pale yellow boxes. He couldn't remember if that was something Dean was interested in, but Cas found it interesting either way. Besides, he was ready to talk about anything to break the ice between them.

Dean chuckled.

"Yeah" he replied doubtingly and with a frown. "Someone told me they wanted to do that" he added. "I tried, but I wasn't very good at it. And I ain't got nobody to help me out. So if I want any goddamn honey I gotta go to the farmer's market like everyone else."

They both laughed lowly for a moment. It wasn't like Dean had said anything funny, it was just the whole situation that felt a little weird.

"You wanna come inside? I just made some potato and beef hash... if you're hungry" he offered suddenly.

Cas smiled politely.

"I don't want to intrude."

"You're not" Dean insisted quickly. He snorted, raking his fingers through his hair. "To be honest, man, I'm scared shitless right now." He took a deep breath, flashing teeth, chuckling, peering his eyes in the sunshine. He didn't seem scared. A little nervous maybe, but too comfortable in himself to be scared. It felt a little familiar.

"Really?"

"I don't want you to freak out, okay...? But there's actually someone I've been dying for you to meet." He turned around slowy with an excited gleam in his eyes, and went back up on the porch, disappearing into the house.

While he was gone, Cas searched the vague faces in his memory to see if he could guess who it might be. He couldn't pinpoint a single one, and a few seconds later Dean was back out on the porch with a young child in his arms. She was beautiful, stunning, and Cas could easily see parts of Dean in her. She looked to be no more than maybe a year old. Two bright, uneaven, short braids, a freckled nose and the bluest eyes Cas had ever seen. She grinned at them with honest and complete happiness in her eyes. There was a drool stain on her purple, tiny t-shirt.

"I think she looks more like her other dad, rather than me" Dean said in awe, smiling at the child in his arms. "Cas, meet Grace. Grace Mary Winchester. One of the first children created from two men."

"Grace?" Cas said faintly.

"A pretty name for a pretty girl." Dean kept his eyes on the tiny human in his arms for a moment longer before he looked up and met Cas' stare. "Have I freaked you out yet?" he asked with a nervous laugh.

"About what?"

Cas froze. He didn't know what to think or say or do or-

"Who's her other father?" he asked flatly. He felt his throat turning dry.

Dean turned his eyes back to Grace and rocked her a little back and forth. He clenched his jaw. His smile had turned sad.

"Dean?"

"You are."

Time stopped.

"Don't freak out!" he added quickly. "No pressure, Cas. I don't mean for you to drop everythin' and come take care of her, or anything."

The ground felt like it was pulled away from under Cas' feet. He faltered and swayed slightly as if he was going to fall, but he managed to stay on his feet. He had a child. A daughter. With this man- this Dean Winchester... This stranger... And now, there was this tiny person who consisted out of them both. Both their genes. Both their cells. Both their atoms. Together. Creating a new life.

"Cas? You okay?" Dean waited for a reply. "You wanna hold her?"

Cas shook his head quickly, vaguely.

"How?" he mumbled.

Dean swallowed.

"The doctor took a bunch of cells and stuff... from you, to do some tests, after the..." He didn't seem to want to talk about what happened. "And when you were released, your-... parents... They signed all of that over to medical reaserch, or something..."

The explanation had holes and gaps, but Cas got the basic context of it. He nodded, barely.

"You made me promise. You said you wanted her- And I get that you don't remember it. I get it. And you don't gotta- you know. I want her... And I just wanted you to know she exists." Dean tried to stay calm to not upset Grace, but Cas heard in his voice how badly he wanted him to understand.

"Why didn't you call me?" he asked, voice faint. He wasn't sure if it was a reasonable question, but he was too shocked to think.

"I tried. I even went back to that apartment of yours. You weren't there."

Cas wasn't sure how long he stood staring down into the grass. In the peripheral vision he suddenly noticed Dean trying to catch his eye. Grace tried to grasp the scruff on her father's jaw.

"You okay, Cas? You don't look so good" he said with a pointed glance. One corner of his mouth quirked up. "How 'bout some dinner?"

Cas nodded with his mouth in a sharp, tight line. His stomach felt like it needed something. He followed, mechanically, when Dean turned and walked back up on the porch with Grace. Everything was suddenly so strange. What was the proper way to act in a situation like this? He slowed down by the door and came to a halt as his eyes shifted out over the garden to the right and stopped on the lonely tree.

"What do those two red ropes mean?" he asked curiously, keeping his eyes on the tree.

Dean took a few steps backwards until they stood next to each other. He traced Cas' stare. They were so close. Dean smelled like he had just cleaned himself up. Was that Axe shower gel?

"I tied the first one when I bought this house. The top one" he explained. He held Grace with one steady arm and pointed at the ropes with his free hand. "The one under, I tied when Grace was born. Just thought it was a fun thing. They kinda grew up with the tree, or something." He continued inside the house again. Cas watched the tree for a moment more before he followed him.

He came into a hallway with warm wallpapers. There was a staircase immediately to his left, followed by a door with a bathroom sign on it. The hall turned around a corner to the left after the bathroom and continued on towards an open door. Cas caught a glimpse of a yellow wall with orange flowers behind a white crib. He figured it to be Grace's room. Grace. The toddler. His daughter. He suddenly got a strong urge to walk down the hall and peek in. But his feet faltered, stopping themselves in the middle of a step. Instead he shifted his stare the other way. In front of him, opposite of the open front door, there was a huge living room with a fireplace and a long gray couch. He turned to the right and locked eyes with Grace who sat in a highchair at the end of the kitchen table.

"The hell you doin' out there?" Dean shouted from somewhere in the kitchen, and Cas stepped in to look for the source of that voice. He wanted- no, he needed to see him, for some reason. It was an unexpected ache he couldn't get rid of.

Dean placed the last casserole on the table and met Cas' eyes with a badly restrained exitement in his own, green ones.

"Just admiring your beautiful home" he answered politely.

"You can do that later." Dean motioned towards the chair on Cas' side of the table as he sat himself down to the left of Grace. Cas followed his example.

"So" he began as Dean passed the potatoes over to him. "Why did you move out here? To the middle of nowhere."

Dean snorted with a grin as if he rememberd something funny. He scooped up beef hash and fried eggs on his plate.

"It wasn't my idea" he answered. "I thought about it for a long time before I got to it."

Cas nodded once and took a bite.

"So you're a doctor now?" Dean asked, changing the subject slightly.

He flinched, still unaccustomed to the fact that this man knew so much about him. Dean didn't seem to take notice of his unease, and Cas shook his head, chewed and swallowed.

"No- eh- You know, it's hard to graduate as a doctor when you can't even remember having sent in applications." He chuckled dryly.

"Oh. Right. Can imagine. All I know 'bout doctor business's is from tv shows."

"I can't remember having taken a single class" Cas continued. "But it's alright. It wasn't my dream. My father just wanted to be able to brag in front of people about how he had a world-renownd surgeon for a son."

"So how's the rest of the family?" Dean asked amusedly as he ate.

"Don't talk with food in your mouth" Cas suddenly complained before he could stop himself, frowning. It seemed to amuse Dean even more and he grinned widely with his mouth full. Grace giggled and waved her little, blue, plastic spoon around. Cas looked down at his food and felt an embarrassing warmth creep up his neck. "I'm sorry" he said quickly. "I'm not qualified to tell you what you should or shouldn't do."

"Yeah- Actually, you kinda are" Dean said with a small smile when he had swallowed. "You used to do it all the time."

"You should've had a salad to this" Cas said, changing the subject. "I can make one, if you want."

"We're ain't gonna eat rabbit food. We're warriors!"

Cas just assumed that Dean spoke for both Grace and himself, and he rolled his eyes.

They didn't say anything for a long time. What could he say? He didn't know Dean the way Dean knew him. Grace dropped her spoon in her baby food repeatedly. Dean fed her and wiped something off of her round chin. The three of them soon finished their dinner and Cas placed his cutlery as nicely as he could to the side on his plate.

"Thank you, Dean. That was good."

"What's wrong with the eggs then?" Dean raised an eyebrow amusedly at the fried egg that Cas had left, merely cut in half and pushed aside. The yolk had run out over the platter.

"No-" He raised his hands apologetically before he wiped the corners of his mouth with a napkin. "I'm not that into runny yolks" he explained.

"You used to be" Dean said, snorting.

Another spark of remembrance passed by on his face before he stood up and began cleaning off the table. Cas helped moving it all to the wooden kitchen counter top by the sink under a wide window that stretched all across the wall. He didn't say anything for a long while. Dean put down everything he had in his hands and stared out through the window, at the lawn and the gravel driveway and the lake which loomed and glistened to the right beyond the veranda. Cas watched him; the dark-blond hair at the nape of his strong neck, the sunbleached jeans-shirt he had thrown on, his broad back under that shirt. He started to feel an uncomfortable ache to touch that scruff and that sunburnt skin and the curve of that back - his fingers itched to know the feeling.

"I need to use the bathroom." He excused himself and hurried out into the hallway. He opened and closed the bathroom door without getting in. Instead he leaned himself against it, breathing unevenly, staring at the photographs on the wall opposite to focus on something else. There were a few pictures of Sam and a beautiful woman, Dean, Grace, some other toddler, more people Cas didn't recognize. One photo with slightly faded colours where a man and a woman held two children in their arms, one of which looked to be no older than Grace.

As Cas' eyes danced over the pictures, his heart calmed down a little. In between all the images of people, there were some polaroids of a more amateur-artistic nature. There was one of a coffee table which looked very much like one he had had once. A shot of a familiar, stylish kitchen. Something that looked like a close-up of some kind of fabric where a few threads deviated in the pattern. Sheets and laughs in a bed he recognized. Cas furrowed his brows and smiled a small smile at them all.

"You hear me, Gracie?" Dean's voice from the kitchen caught his attention. He took a few steps towards it but stopped himself from going in. Still out in the hallway, he leaned his right elbow against the doorframe and watched in silence. The scene in front of him made his heart swell with warmth. It was a sudden and unexpected feeling, but he liked it.

Dean stood by the sink with his back towards Cas, just where Cas had left him. He seemed to be washing their plates by hand, and was lit up by the soft and warm shine of the day's last sunlight coming in through the facing window.

"Don't you dare grow up to be someone who nags about how their eggs are cooked" Dean said with a pretended sternness to Grace who sat in her highchair, merely grinning and giggling at him in return. He snorted once, and the corners of his mouth curled up when he peeked over his shoulder to glance at her. It made Cas smile too in his hiding place out in the hall. For some reason this felt like home - and he had only been here a few hours. He was reminded that he was merely a guest and that he soon might have overstayed his visit.

He finally entered the kitchen and broke the spellbinding charm of the home-like scene he had been watching. This Dean Winchester was still a stranger, even if they _did_ have a child together. Cas smiled at Grace and dared to stroke her hair. When he looked up he caugh Dean gazing at them.

"You're so good with her" Cas commented. "Isn't it hard? On your own, I mean..."

He chuckled.

"To be honest, I'm just making it all up as I go" he answered.

They were silent for a second, but it wasn't an uncomfortable silence.

"I think it's time for me to go" Cas said eventually.

Dean suddenly looked like he wanted to say something, biting his teeth together, furrowing his brows slightly.

"I was gonna offer you a beer. You want a beer?" he said. He leaned against the kitchen counter, crossing his chest with one arm, motioning towards the refrigerator with his free hand. "Or wine- I've got wine too. Red or white? What's your poison?"

"I don't know" Cas began. "I've got a motel room to check in to." The thought made him picture his bags in the back of his car.

"You could stay here. If you want" he suggested with a trying smile. The idea was extremely tempting for some reason. "And I don't mean that in a creepy, Norman Bates way!" he quickly added with his hands up in a dismissive gesture. "I've got a guest room." He chuckled at himself.

Cas thought about it without answering.

"Just need to put the little slugger to bed, an' then we can have a glass on the porch." He went around the table and lifted Grace out of her highchair and headed out and down the hall without waiting for Cas' reply. Cas followed them with his eyes and kept gazing down towards the room with the yellow, flowery wallpaper and the white crib... until Dean came back to him a minute later, where he stood still, frozen in the doorway to the kitchen.

Dean walked by him and disappeared behind his back.

"So. Beer or wine?"

"Er- Wine, please" Cas answered hesitatingly. He could hear glass clang before Dean gave his shoulders a few whacks and went by him towards the front door.

"C'mon, Cas" he beckoned without even throwing a glance over his shoulder. A laid-back confidence oozed off of him and it did all kinds of inappropriate things to Cas. For a second it felt too easy ignoring the alarms going off in his head, in order to slip right into this life with this man and this child in this house. The thought scared him. Dean was still a stranger, he reminded himself. Easy to forget.

He followed. Of course he did. And when he came out on the slightly chilly veranda, he caught Dean sitting down on one of two wooden armchairs. On the small table between them he had lit two candles and placed a bottle of wine along with a glass for Cas, and three beers for himself. It was like a relentless force; him being drawn to sit down on the other armchair a mere meter from Dean. What was wrong with him? He needed to stop these sudden outbursts of emotion which Dean evoked in him. He needed to think of something else, so when he had sat down he shifted his eyes. It really was a beautiful view from the porch; both the plain garden and the grass leading down towards the lake to the right.

"Hope red's fine" Dean said, claiming Cas' attention. Dean had a joyous smile playing on his lips as he leaned forward and filled half of Cas' glass with the red liquid. "Chef says we're out of white."

He took the glass with an offhanded "thank you"-nod. Dean leaned back in his chair and popped a beer open while Cas stared down into his glass, stirring the wine round and round for a second. He had had red wine once before - as far as he could remember anyway. That evening had ended at eleven o'clock, on a stranger's bathroom floor.

"So what _do_ you do now? I mean, if the doctor thing didn't work out-..." Dean arched an eyebrow, took a pull of his beer and threw one foot over the other, his legs stretched out long in front of him.

Cas kept looking at his glass. He shrugged a little and almost smiled.

"I tried doing the physics thing at university" he admitted. "But I figured that talking about series of differential equations and sameness in a quantum superposition, and drawing diagrams of subsonic frequencies, among other things, wasn't really what I wanted to do for the rest of my life." He took a sip of the wine. It wasn't half bad.

He raised his eyes to Dean and bit his lip to not break out laughing at the confused wrinkle between his eyebrows. Dean caught him looking back and relaxed his face, raising his brows instead, turning his attention back to his beer.

"Yeah. Whatever you say, Cas." One corner of his mouth curled upwards.

"I found this old polaroid camera at home, though" he continued. "I got it for myself when I was fifteen. My father didn't like that I wanted to be a photographer." For a second it looked like Dean was going to say something, but he never interrupted. "So anyway. I took some photo classes and I really got into it again. I've done a few weddings and family photos for acquaintances."

"Impressive" was all Dean said. There was an open, honest streak in his facial expression. "Glad you followed your dream."

"Most of the time I just work at the Gas'n'Sip across the street from my apartment." He snorted shortly at himself and tensed up. He didn't know why he had said that. Dean was going to think he was one of those guys who never got around to actually follow through on anything. He stared down into his glass again.

"It ain't easy earning money on a dream either."

Cas relaxed slightly. Dean seemed to be a good man. Why was Cas so jumpy?

"So what about your folks? And those- What- was it _two_... brothers?"

"Mike and Gabe. Yes." He swallowed nervously. Would he ever get used to Dean already knowing so much about him? "I don't know" he answered eventually, leaning back in his seat a little to maybe manage to at least look half as relaxed as Dean. "I broke with them after the-... the incident. I've always wanted to be free, to be me, and back then- with school and everything... I saw the opportunity and I took it." It was a few years ago now, and Cas smiled at the memory of the relief he had felt. "My parents cut me off, as expected, and I had to move out of the apartment they had paid for. So I went back upstate." It surprised Cas that he spoke so freely in Dean's company. He didn't even talk this much around people he actually knew.

Dean nodded pensively and took another pull off his beer.

"Er- I'd ask about your life, but since I don't... know..." The sentence trailed off.

He quit with all the questions after that and told Cas more about himself instead, and Cas lost track of time. The sky was pitch black when Dean offered to help carry his bags inside and Cas' slightly tipsy brain caused him to smile and bow his whole head in reply. The dark velvet above them was lit up by a handful of star constellations that threw glistening white light over the garden. Cas gave it all a last glance before he followed Dean and his bags inside the house. They took the stairs directly to the left by the door and carried on upstairs. Dean walked ahead to show the way. His rolled up shirt sleeves revealed the muscles playing under the sunburnt skin as he lugged Cas' duffle in one hand and his aluminium framed carry-on bag in the other. At the top of the stairs he turned to the right, walked a few steps through the small hallway and pushed a door open with his foot.

"So, this is you." He stepped inside, put down the bags at the end of the double bed, turned to Cas who had followed, and motioned at the guest room with both his hands. There was a window straight ahead, on the opposite side of the door, the bed was on the left and an old-looking wardrobe painted in different shades of green towered to the right. It was actually quite cozy. Cas walked further in, slowly, taking in everything as he sat down on the bed.

"It's nice" he commented, giving the room a final once-over before his eyes sweeped to meet Dean's.

"I'm right over there." Dean pointed with a thumb over his shoulder, across the hall, towards the door opposite. "If you need anything-..."

Cas nodded once.

"Thank you, Dean."

"Anytime." With flickering eyes and an offhanded smile, Dean closed the door behind him when he left.

The zipper sounded so loud when Cas opened his carry-on and rumaged through it for a t-shirt and his grey sweatpants. He finally found what he was looking for and methodically changed into them, folding his pants and shirt neatly before picking up his small, blue toiletry bag. He headed for the bathroom downstairs, but he didn't get any further than to the hallway outside of his room. The door to Dean's was ajar and Cas couldn't stop himself from peeking in. Dean sat on his double bed, facing away from Cas. The drawer in his nightstand was open and he held something in his hands. As Dean shifted in his seat, Cas saw the small, black, velvet box and the shiny object inside. A ring. Dean smiled a soft smile down at it and drew a deep breath before flipping it shut with his thumb and placing it back down into the drawer for safekeeping. Cas shivered, for some inexplicable reason. With a steady breath he took a step back to continue downstairs, but the floorboards squeaked under him and caught Dean's attention. He turned halfway around where he sat on the bed.

"Cas?" Dean's voice rumbled.

His heart sped and his palms felt clammy as he pushed the door open a little more. He felt incredibly embarrassed as he met Dean's wondering gaze.

"I- I'm sorry. I didn't mean to-"

"Somethin' wrong?" He furrowed his brows concernedly and Cas shook his head. He willed himself to smile a little in an attempt to calm down.

"No- I-... I just wanted to say that-..." He drew a deep breath, leaning his shoulder against the door frame with one hand casually in the sidepocket on his sweatpants. "I've understood that we lost alot, and I'm sorry... And you- I mean- You seem to know me, but I don't-..." He cleared his throat, shrugging a shoulder.

"I get it" Dean said. "I rushed you. You're uncomfortable."

"N- no, Dean-"

"You don't know me." His eyes were a telltale that it hurt saying those words out loud.

"But that's just it. There's something about you." Closely, he watched Dean as the sadness faded away. "I can't really put my finger on it, but it's like-..." He bit his lip, thinking. How could he say that it felt like he had come home, without it sounding stupid? "There's something familiar..."

A warm smile spread across Dean's face and Cas shook his head as his cheeks grew hot.

"I'm sorry. This must sound really weird."

"Sounds perfectly not weird."

Cas raised his gaze and smiled back. Pursing his lips, he leaned away from the doorframe, backing out into the hall again, reluctantly.

"Well... Good night then, Dean" he said, grinning like an idiot.

Dean gave him a chivalrous nod.

"Looking forward to getting to know you" he said. "Again."


End file.
